For some time he ran along through the trees, and at length, in about fifteen or twenty minutes, he reached the place where the dense underbrush was, by the edge of the cliff.  From this point a wide view was commanded.  On reaching it he looked out, and then up the bay, towards the Straits of Minas.  He could see almost up to the straits, but no steamer appeared.  For a moment he stood bewildered, and then the thought came to him, that he had mistaken altogether the steamer’s course.  She could not be coming down on the north side of the island, but on the south side.  With a cry of grief he started back again, mourning over his error, and the time that he had lost.  On reaching the more open wood, he thought that it would be better to hurry across the island to the south side, and proceeded at once to do so.  The way was rough and tedious.  Once or twice he had to burst through thickets of alder, and several times he had to climb over windfalls.  At length, in his confusion, he lost his way altogether; he had to stop and think.  The shadows of the trees showed him where the south lay, and he resumed his journey.  At length, after most exhaustive efforts, he reached a part of the cliff, where a fringe of alders grew so thick, that he was scarce aware that he was at his destination, until the precipice opened beneath him.  Here he stood, and, pressing apart the dense branches, he looked out.

There was the steamer, about two miles off, already below where he was standing, and going rapidly down the bay with the falling tide.

Another cry of grief burst from Tom.  Where he was standing he could see the vessel, but he himself was completely concealed by the clustering bushes.  He now lamented that he had left his first position, and saw that his only chance was to have remained there.

To stay where he was could not be thought of.  There was scarce a chance now of doing anything, since the steamer was so far away; but what chance there was certainly depended on his being in some conspicuous position.  He started off, therefore, to the west point, where he had watched the schooner for so long a time.  He hurried on with undiminished energy, and bounded over windfalls, and burst through thickets, as before.  But in spite of his efforts, his progress could not be more rapid than it had formerly been.  His route was necessarily circuitous, and before he could find the desired point, many more minutes had elapsed.

But he reached it at last, and there, on the bare rock, springing forward, he waved his hat in the air, and sent forth a piercing cry for help.  But the steamer was now as much as four or five miles away—­too far altogether for his loudest cry to go.  His screams and his gestures did not appear to attract the slightest attention.  She moved on her way right under the eyes of the frantic and despairing boy, nor did she change her course in the slightest degree, nor did her paddles cease to revolve, but went rolling round, tossing up the foam, and bearing far, far away that boat on which poor Tom had rested his last hope.