My kneeth are thtiff. Oh,
Harriet, I think I'm going to die!"
"Nonsense! Why, you could swim all night, if necessary, and be up in
time for six o'clock breakfast just the same."
"Breakfatht. It will be fithh for breakfatht for Tommy Thompthon, I
gueth. Fithh, Harriet, fithh," mumbled Grace, then ceased swimming.
"Fithh!"
"Poor girl, she is about done for!" muttered Harriet Burrell. She
turned Tommy over on her back and, placing a hand under the little
girl, began swimming slowly. The added burden was almost more than
Harriet, in her benumbed state, was able to handle. She knew that she
could not support Grace and herself through the rest of that long,
dark night. She knew, too, that unless they were rescued, her
companion would be past help by the end of another hour. It already
seemed hours since they had slipped into the sea and rode out on the
crest of a receding wave. Now her movements were becoming slower and
slower. She seemed not to possess the power to move her limbs. It was
not all weariness either; it was that dragging numbness that was
pulling her down.
Harriet fought a more desperate battle with herself than she ever had
been called upon to fight before. She did not now believe that they
would be rescued, but that did not prevent her keeping up the battle
as long as a single vestige of strength remained.
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