He led the way at once, and we followed, the Captain (who appeared to have lost his temper again) growling that he took no stock in views. But the distance was not far. We scrambled over two low ledges of rock and found ourselves looking down upon a beach even prettier and more fairy-like than the one we had left—and upon something more—a ship's boat, drawn about thirty feet above high-water, and resting there on her side.
"Yours?" asked Captain Branscome, after a long stare at her.
"Certainly not," answered Dr. Beauregard. "And that is why I brought you here."
CHAPTER XXX.
THE SCREAM ON THE CLIFF.
"A boat?" said Captain Branscome, staring again, and slowly rubbing the back of his head.
He took a step forward, to descend to the beach and examine her, but Dr. Beauregard laid a hand on his arm.
"Not so fast, my friend! Qui dit canot dit canotier—a glance will assure you that she did not beach herself in that position, above high-water mark, still less furl her own sail and stow it. Further, if you study the country behind us, you will see that, while we came unobserved and stand at this moment in excellent cover, by crossing the beach we expose ourselves to observation and the risk of a bullet."
"I take it, sir," answered Captain Branscome, still puzzled, "you knew this boat to be here, and have brought us with some purpose."