"Then we shall have to draw lots who is to be eaten."
"Don't we eat our boots and things first?" asked Myra.
"The doctor says I mustn't have anything more solid than a lightly-boiled shoe-lace the last thing at night."
"After all, there's always the dinghy," said Archie. "If we put in a tin of corned beef and a compass and a keg of gunpowder, somebody might easily row in and post the letters. Personally, as captain, I must stick to my ship."
"There's another way I've just thought of," I said. "Let's sail in."
I pointed out to sea, and there, unmistakably, was the least little breeze coming over the waters. A minute later and our pennant napped once Simpson moistened a finger and held it up.
The sprint for home had begun.
III.—A DAY ASHORE
"Well, which is it to be?" asked Archie.
"Just whichever you like," said Dahlia, "only make up your minds."