“I suppose it is all right,” David said dubiously.
“Of course it is!” the man assured him.
“We can bring you food from the mainland,” Gale suggested.
“Fine!” the pilot declared cheerfully.
After his ankle was bathed and bandaged and he declared his intention of resting the young people had no choice but to take their leave.
“He seemed glad to be rid of us,” Phyllis said in an injured tone as they climbed back into Bruce’s motor boat. “I wonder who he is?”
“We didn’t ask his name,” David murmured in surprise.
“There is something mysterious about him,” Bruce said with a frown. “I wonder if we should have let him stay at the lodge?”
“Why not?” Gale wanted to know. “He can’t run away—not on his injured ankle—there is no harm in it. I think he is rather nice,” she added, with an afterthought for the pilot’s dark curly hair and handsome, boyish face. “Well, I do!” she insisted defiantly when the boys laughed. She remembered the way the pilot had looked at her and felt a pleasant little thrill. He had such a nice smile!
“What happened? Was he killed?”