Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1910-09-05
BY Henry KitcheII Webster

Philip had tainted within a moment
after she had reached his side there
on the ice, after the fight with Roscoe.
He had recovered almost Immediately,
and had walked along with her, steadily
enough, as far as the ice cave; but here
he collapsed in good earnest. His In
Jurfes would not nave been dangerous
If he could ave been put directly Into
a hospital, or ever If they could have
commanded medical and surgical skill
of the simplest sort. Situated as the
were. however. 1t was no wonder that
within a few hours h became q very
sick man.
It was impossible, of course, for him
to get back into the p~ilot-house. Jeanne
mounted thither d~ismantled the
place as well as she could, throwing or
carrying down such articles as she
thought might be of use. With the
skins they had accumulated during the
winter she contrived a sort of shelter,
in the ~half-burned storeroom behind
had been the hut. There she
took what care she could of her invalid
Much of the time Philip was delir-
ious; sometimes violently 80, and yet
she often had to leave him. When
She did so, 1t was with no certainty at
800 1890 5AC WOaA4 AAAAA 4AAAA Ct4NO 4RVA
her return.
Occasionally during that in~terminable
time, when all reckoning of time itself
was lost. she found herself recalling
passages from her fathers journal,
with an infinitely better understanding
of them and Of the man himself than !
she had ever commanded before. She
was living his gospel now, in all earn
est-without real hope. yet equally
without despair. Living life one hour.
one problem. one act at a time.
She had little leisure and less energy
for reflection. AS q rule, when there
was nothing that needed Immediately
to be done, she would drop down on the
bearsldns beside Philip, and snatch a
morsel of sleep. But, even at that.
she sometimes wondered at the change
which had come over her-at the things
(which she could do quite simply and
effortlessly, now.
She had once asked Philip, half play
fully, II he could not treat her like a
kid brother, and make a man of her.
Well, that was What he was doing now,
unconsciously and observation-disclosures
by lying there helpless-just by depend
ing utterly upon her for every hour of
life he had.
Al ollc W lis DIlCl PSLlOub VI kaSt0~
ity Philip had told her what he had
done during his brief and disastrous
absence from the pilot-house. How he
lar found Roscoe's cave, and waited
there for his return.
Is At the risk of forcing his fiuttering
mind back into delirium, she had
pressed him for as exact a description
as he could compass of the location Of
this cave. During his next
lively quiet sleep b set out to find 1t.
Philips description of the place had
not been reassuring, and he had done
even fuller justice to it's horrors dur
ing the wanderings OF his delirium, and
yet she had faced the situation with
hardly a shudder.
She set out, equipped with flint and
steel and candles, and found the place
without difficulty, and had explored the
grisly lair where the man-monster had
lived to the utmost, hardly conscious
of its loathsomeness-not conscious at
all. in fact, except al she thought of
the effect the sight of such a place
would once have had upon her.
This she was sure Of: If she and
Philip ever came alive through this
winter, ever went back together to
the world of men, there would be an en-
tirely new Joy for her in living, a joy
springing from a feeling OF indepen-
dence, from a certainty that whatever
situation she might be confronted with
she would be equal to 1t.
ITO Re Continued TomorrovuA