"I
can't have her," he said. "She isn't for the likes of me; but if I
can't live with her, I can live for her--as she'd want me to
live, and, s'help me, those words'll keep me straight. If she
ever hears of Billy Byrne again it won't be anything to make
her ashamed that she had her arms around him, kissing him,
and telling him that she loved him."
At the river's edge across from the little island Billy came to
a halt. He had reached the point near midnight, and hesitated
to cross over and disturb the party at that hour. At last,
however, he decided to cross quietly, and lie down near HER
hut until morning.
The crossing was most difficult, for he was very weak, but
at last he came to the opposite bank and drew himself up to
lie panting for a few minutes on the sloping bank. Then he
crawled on again up to the top, and staggering to his feet
made his way cautiously toward the two huts. All was quiet.
He assumed that the party was asleep, and so he lay down
near the rude shelter he had constructed for Barbara Harding,
and fell asleep.
It was broad daylight when he awoke--the sun was fully
three hours high, and yet no one was stirring. For the first
time misgivings commenced to assail Billy's mind. Could it be
possible? He crossed over to his own hut and entered--it was
deserted.
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