"Is it hurt?" he asked.
"I think not; or at most only a little strained. But it is wedged between these big rocks, and I cannot move it."
Dan touched the foot, and found that it was, indeed, wedged fast. Then he examined the rocks, and finally, bending above the smaller one, placed his arms firmly about it, braced his feet and lifted. It would have been worth while to have seen the play of his back and shoulder muscles as the strain tightened, but it was over in a moment. For the rock rose slowly, slowly, and the foot was free. He let the rock drop softly back, stood up and brushed the sand from his sleeves. The girl bent and rubbed her ankle.
"Is it all right?" he asked.
"I think so," and she took an experimental step or two. "Yes; not even sprained. That reminded me of Porthos," she added, looking up at him, her eyes very bright.
He laughed.
"Porthos would have done it with one hand," he said, "while saluting you with the other."
She hesitated a little, looking along the beach; and he, guessing her thought, raised his cap and started to walk on. But again her voice stopped him. Perhaps she, too, was something of a mind-reader.
"I owe you some thanks, you know," she said. "You mustn't go off till I've paid them!"
Dan swung around, his face glowing.