"Nobody comes here, I suppose?"
"I should think not."
"I mean, the owner never comes to—"
"To visit his cargo?" laughed Sam. "No, the owner is dead. He was a wicked old miser, and I guess in the place where he is now he'd give a deal for the water in this ship; but I never heard he was allowed to come back for it."
She leant her hands on the taffrail, and looked over the stern.
"Hark! There are the other boats. Don't you hear the voices? They have passed us by, and we must make haste after them."
She turned upon him with a smile. Without well knowing what he did he laid his hand softly on her arm.
"Stop, I want a word before you go."
"Well?"
Her large eyes, gleaming on him through the dusk, compelled and yet frightened him. He trembled and stammered vaguely—