It was true enough. They did escape in the night, and Mary had been there ready to help them with a boat; but where was she now? and who was this sturdy youth in loose petticoat-canvas trousers, and heavy fisherman’s boots?
Bart stared till his eyes showed a ring of white about their pupils, and his mouth opened roundly in unison for a time. Then eyes and mouth closed tightly, and wrinkles appeared all over his face, as he softly shook all over, and then, after glancing at Abel and the Irish soldier, he uttered a low—
“Haw, haw!”
The figure in the boat swung round and faced him sharply, glancing at the two sleeping men, and holding up a roughened brown hand to command silence.
“All right,” said Bart, half-choking with mirth; and then, “Oh, I say, my lass, you do look rum in them big boots!”
“Silence, idiot!” she whispered, sharply. “Do you want that strange man to know?”
“Nay, not I,” said Bart, shortly, as he too glanced at Dinny. “But I say, you do look rum.”
“Bart,” whispered Mary, fiercely, and her eyes flashed with indignant anger, “is this a time to fool?”
“Nay, my lass, nay,” he said, becoming sober on the instant, “But you do look so rum. I say, though,” he cried, sharply, “what’s gone of all your beautiful long hair?”
“Fire,” said Mary, coldly.