About the time their signal line was completed, however, there came a milder day, so suggestive of the vanished summer that Cabot declared his intention of spending an hour or so at the lookout.

"There might be such a thing as a belated vessel," he argued, "and I might have the luck to signal it.

Anyhow, I am going to make one more try before agreeing to settle down here for the winter." As White was busy moving the galley stove into the cabin, and making other preparations for their coming struggle against Arctic cold, Cabot rowed himself ashore and left the dinghy on the beach.

Then he climbed to the summit of the lofty headland, where, for a long time, he leaned thoughtfully on the rude Alpine-stock that had aided his steps, and gazed out over the vacant ocean.
While Cabot thus watched for ships that failed to come, White was putting the finishing touches to his new cabin fixtures.

He was just beginning to wonder if it were not time for his comrade's return when he felt the slight jar of some floating object striking against the side of the schooner.