answer to his. On his face there came a grim and hopeless look.
One afternoon, a week following the erection of the wireless station, Mate Fordam came upon a number of turtles. He caught some, by turning them over on their backs, and also located a number of nests of eggs under the warm sands.
"This will be something to eat," he said, joyfully, and indeed the turtles formed a welcome food supply. Some fish were caught, and some clams were cast up by the tide, all of which eked out the scanty food supply that remained. The two ladies suspected the truth now, and they, too, cut down their allowance.
Tom, who had been sitting with the men in their sleeping shack, that evening, rose, as the hour of ten approached. It was time to send out the last message of the night, and then he would lie down on an improvised couch, with the telephone receiver clamped to his ear, to wait, in the silence of the darkness, for the message saying that help was on the way.
"Well, are you off?" asked Mr. Damon, kindly. "I wish some of us could relieve you, Tom."
"Oh, I don't mind it," answered the lad "Perhaps the message may come to-night."
Hardly had he spoken than there sounded the ominous rumble and shaking that presaged an-
