Allan arose and felt quite steady again. “I’m all right. Good-by—Mr. Hamilton.”
“Good-by,” said the old man.
“I am very much obliged to you.”
“You are entirely welcome, sir.”
When he started to walk Allan found that he had bruised his right leg; but he sought to make light of this to himself as well as to the others; and, indeed, the stiffness which came into it while he sat on the step of the hut soon wore away.
The Arabella was tugging at her anchor line as if impatient to be away.
Allan looked doubtfully at the river and sky. “We shall have to put in again somewhere if things get any fresher,” he said.
“I don’t think it’s going to be any worse,” was Owen’s opinion. “This is a fine breeze for a spin.”
“Well, we’ll try it.”
After the cameras had been stowed, they debated as to whether they had better eat lunch before starting, and decided that in case they had to anchor later it would be best to spend the immediate interval in getting to a more sheltered position. “We can eat a bite on the way down,” said Owen.