CHAPTER XVII.
PRISONER ON A BARREN ISLAND Because his bed of boughs was snug and comfortable, and because there was nothing else to do and nowhere to go, and it was the best way, anyhow, to spend the hours of imprisonment that would last until the blizzard spent itself, Bobby gave himself the luxury of a long sleep.
But even then it was still dark when he awoke, and at first he was puzzled, for he was sure he had slept away hours enough for daylight to have come.

He could hear the raging storm and pounding seas in a muffled roar, as though far away, while he lay for a little while wondering at the darkness.
The air had grown close and stifling, and presently he arose and struck a match.

It glowed for a moment but refused to burn.

He struck another and then another, with like result.

The matches were perfectly dry, for he carried them in a small, closely corked bottle.