A flying look of astonishment sent over shoulder shot from her to Ky. “That dog?” But impatience drove even wonderment out. “Can’t you see how close—” He flung an arm toward the laboring boat, as with hot face turned seaward to the wind he hurried on.
“If the dog goes back he’ll think I failed him—” The wind and the surf took the rest. In the turmoil of her mind the first thing needful to assure seemed to be Ky’s safe conveyance to the ship. While Louis, without slackening speed, snatched her arm through his, compelling her to keep his pace, still the girl looked back as she held behind her the last of the lure. Ky was making her way better than her new friend, for Hildegarde’s weakened ankle turned more than once, and now she was almost down. Cheviot had swung back and had her on her feet again.
“Louis—” But the pain had turned her faint.
“It’s horrible to hurt you, but there mayn’t be another boat this year,” he jerked out, starting on again.
Hildegarde had no real fear of their being left. Wasn’t “the watchman” with her? But Ky! The sailors might refuse to wait for a dog.
“Here!” He shook off her slack hand and grasped her by the arm. “I must help you more.”
“Yes, yes. Help me to get her down there in time.”
“All right!” But he was shouting the reassuring words across the surf. “Come on!” he encouraged the sailors. “Coming on” was easier said than done. An instant the boat had fallen back.
“We’ll be there as soon as you!” Cheviot’s shout dropped hoarsely: “We won’t if you can’t do better than this.”