I could see Greg at last, with the
jersey under his head, and the white brocade waistcoat all dark and
stained at the shoulder, and his poor dear face ghastly white. And
Jerry asleep, with the ruffle still pinned to his wet shirt and a
big hole torn in the knee of his knickerbockers. And I saw the slimy
pools that the tide had left beside us--it was on the ebb again--and
the pieces of the root-beer bottle that Jerry had broken off, and
the horrible, high, black head of the Sea Monster above us.
There was no boat of any sort to be seen, near or far away, but I
woke Jerry so that we could both keep watch in case one came. Just
as Jerry crawled out of the cave and stretched himself stiffly, Greg
took his hand away from mine and blinked out at the sky, and said in
almost his own voice:
"Have we been here all the time?"
"Yes, all the time, ducky," I said, and then I cried, "Don't try to
move, Gregs!" for I saw him trying to squirm over.
He lay back and said "Why?" but then in an instant he knew why. I
couldn't do anything but cuddle my cheek down against his, and he
sobbed:
"Make me stop crying, Chris."
The light grew stronger and stronger till there were shadows among
the rocks and Wecanicut came out green and brown. Jerry came back
presently, and I wondered if he'd seen anything, but he said:
"Chris, I just wanted to ask you.
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