"I am cold.

Oh, if we could only have a fire." "I will do my best to make one, Miss Croyden," I replied, speaking as gymnastically as I could.

"I will see what I can do with two dry sticks." "With dry sticks ?" queried the girl.

"Can you light a fire with that?
How wonderful you are!" "I have often seen it done," I replied thoughtfully; "when I was hunting the humpo, or humped buffalo, in the Himalayas, it was our usual method." "Have you really hunted the humpo ?" she asked, her eyes large with interest.
"I have indeed," I said, "but you must rest; later on I will tell you about it." "I wish you could tell me now," she said with a little moan.
Meantime I had managed to select from the driftwood on the beach two sticks that seemed absolutely dry.

Placing them carefully together, in Indian fashion, I then struck a match and found no difficulty in setting them on fire.
In a few moments the girl was warming herself beside a generous fire.
Together we breakfasted upon the beach beside the fire, discussing our plans like comrades.
Our meal over, I rose.
"I will leave you here a little," I said, "while I explore." With no great difficulty I made my way through the scrub and climbed the eminence of tumbled rocks that shut in the view.
On my return Miss Croyden was still seated by the fire, her head in her hands.
"Miss Croyden," I said, "we are on an island." "Is it inhabited ?" she asked.
"Once, perhaps, but not now.