The raging malcontent of the moment before was straightway tamed. You saw in his face that he would do his share in hushing up the conditions under which he was to make the voyage.
As Hildegarde sped along the last stretch of the deck before going below, her astonished eyes fell upon the giant. Then he hadn’t got off by the Congress! She was about to ask him if he’d seen the Blumpittys, but some one else was surprised to find the giant on board the Los Angeles—a puffing, excited individual, with a red beard, in the act of pushing past, stopped, stared, and then clapped the giant on the back. “Gawd A’mighty! Is that you!”
“No,” says the giant calmly. “I’m Ford O’Gorman.”
Again Hildegarde hurried down the companionway, and very much as an agitated tabby seeks refuge in the attic, she clambered into the top berth furthest from the door.
And Cheviot had never come!
CHAPTER XVII
When she waked the next morning it was to a sensation of strange silence and gentle motion. Why, they had got off, then, after all!