“Easily enough,” he said, seating himself calmly. “Thought you’d lost me?”
He looked at Madelaine as he spoke, but she turned her face away, biting her lips, and it was Louise who replied,
“I did not think you could have been so cruel.”
“Cruel be hanged!” he retorted. “Thought I’d find out whether I was of any consequence after all. You people seem to say I’m of none. Did they begin to cry, Vic?”
“Oh, I’m not going to tell tales,” said Pradelle with a smile.
“I should have had a pipe in there, only my matches had got wet.”
“Ha-ha-ha!” laughed Pradelle, and the mirth sounded strange there beneath the rocks, and a very decided hiss seemed to come from out of the low rugged opening.
“Try again, Vic,” said Harry mockingly; but his friend made no reply, for he was staring hard and defiantly at Leslie, who, as he handled his oar, gave him a calmly contemptuous look that galled him to the quick.
“Ready, Leslie?” said Harry. “Yes.”
The oars dipped, Leslie pulling stroke, and the boat shot out from its dangerous position among the rocks, rose at a good-sized swelling wave, topped it, seemed to hang as in a balance for a moment, and then glided down and went forward in response to a few vigorous strokes.