He felt assured that there was not the remotest chance of their lofty perch being found out before daybreak, and the first faint streaks of dawn would awaken him.
These two, remote, abandoned, hopelessly environed by a savage enemy, closed their eyes contentedly and awaited that which the coming day should bring forth.
When the morning breeze swept over the ocean and the stars were beginning to pale before the pink glory flung broadcast through the sky by the yet invisible sun, the sailor was aroused by the quiet fluttering of a bird about to settle on the rock, but startled by the sight of him.
His faculties were at once on the alert, though he little realized the danger betokened by the bird's rapid dart into the void.

Turning first to peer at Iris, he satisfied himself that she was still asleep.

Her lips were slightly parted in a smile; she might be dreaming of summer and England.

He noiselessly wormed his way to the verge of the rock and looked down through the grass-roots.
The Dyaks were already stirring.

Some were replenishing the fire, others were drawing water, cooking, eating, smoking long thin-stemmed pipes with absurdly small bowls, or oiling their limbs and weapons with impartial energy.