Page:Dick Hamilton's Steam Yacht.djvu/260

240 (and what a mockery his wealth seemed to him then) shared his rations with the dogs, but would not allow the others to deprive themselves of any of theirs. Dick only drew his belt tighter, and gazed off into space, hoping against hope that he would see a ship. He wet his parched lips, and prayed silently—not so much for himself, as for the others, while Grit whined at his feet, and licked his hand.

The little puppy, not being able to stand the strain, died, and, rather sorrowfully, they cast him overboard.

It was on the ninth day out—a hot, broiling day—when the sun seemed fairly to sizzle through the bagging awning, and force out every drop of moisture from one's body. There was not an ounce of water left, and death stared them in the face. They lay about the raft limply, almost too weak to speak.

It was Widdy who first saw the approaching, ship. At first he feared his eyes were deceiving him, and he rubbed them, and stared again and again, to make sure, before he ventured to cry out:

"Sail ho!"

They all leaped to their feet with new strength at his words, and gazed where he pointed. At first it was but a speck, but they shouted and waved any rag or piece of clothing they could catch up. Of course, their feeble voices did not carry, but they must have been seen, for,