“Oh!” Gale almost shrieked as a brown hand seized her own. Her heart raced with terror until she saw his face.
“Brent!”
“Gale!”
The man flung aside his bit of firewood and helped her to her feet.
“You were almost crowned,” he declared laughing. “I thought a ghost of an ancient pirate had risen to confront me.”
“And I thought you were a smuggler or something!” Gale admitted laughingly. “I was going to protect our club house from any of your nefarious schemes.”
“How did you get on the island?” he asked.
“I rode over in the boat—with you,” she explained and smiled at his mystification. “I was hiding under the canvas in the stern.”
“Suppose I had been a burglar or something,” he admonished. “You would be in a fine mess.”
“But I’m glad you aren’t,” she said. She swung herself up onto the table and swung her legs out before her, regarding him with serious eyes. “But what are you doing here at this hour?”