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Helpless and Hopeless

           Atnoon,afteracomfortablemeal,allthetravelersinstalledinamail-coach,drawnbyfivestronghorses,leftDelegeteatagallop.Thepostilions,stimulatedbyapromiseofaprincelyDOUCEUR,droverapidlyalongoverawell-keptroad.Theydidnotloseaminuteinchanginghorses,whichtookplaceeverytenmiles.ItseemedasiftheywereinfectedwithGlenarvan’szeal.Allthatday,andnight,too,theytraveledonattherateofsixmilesanhour.

           Inthemorningatsunrise,adullmurmurfellontheirears,andannouncedtheirapproachtotheIndianOcean.Theyrequiredtogoroundthebaytogainthecoastatthe37thparallel,theexactpointwhereTomAustinwastowaittheirarrival.

           Whentheseaappeared,alleyesanxiouslygazedattheoffing.WastheDuncan,byamiracleofProvidence,thererunningclosetotheshore,asamonthago,whentheycrossedCapeCorrientes,theyhadfoundherontheArgentinecoast?Theysawnothing.Skyandearthmingledinthesamehorizon.Notasailenlivenedthevaststretchofocean.

           Onehopestillremained.PerhapsTomAustinhadthoughtithisdutytocastanchorinTwofoldBay,fortheseawasheavy,andashipwouldnotdaretoventureneartheshore."ToEden!"criedGlenarvan.Immediatelythemail-coachresumedtherouteroundthebay,towardthelittletownofEden,fivemilesdistant.Thepostilionsstoppednotfarfromthelighthouse,whichmarkstheentranceoftheport.Severalvesselsweremooredintheroadstead,butnoneofthemboretheflagofMalcolm

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