It was then with a feeling of relief that was shared by both the ladies, that after a few miles’ run Henry Vine stood up in the bows, and, keeping a sharp look out for certain rocks, shouted his orders to Leslie as to the steering of the boat, and finally, as they neared the frowning cliffs, suddenly lowered the sail and took up the oars.
They were abreast of a large cave where the swift grey-winged pigeons flew in and out over the swelling waves which seemed to glide slowly on and on, to rush rapidly after the birds and disappear in the gloom beneath the arch. Then there was a low echoing boom as the wave struck far away in the cave, and came back hissing and whispering to be merged in the next.
“Going to row close in?” said Leslie, scanning the weird, forbidding place rather anxiously.
“Going to row right in,” said Harry, with a contemptuous smile. “Not afraid, are you?”
“Can’t say,” replied Leslie. “A little perhaps. The place does not look tempting. Do you think it is safe to go in?”
“Like to land on the rock till we come back?” said Harry instead of answering the question.
“No,” said Leslie quietly; “but do you think it wise to row in there?”
“You’re not afraid, are you, girls?”
“I always feel nervous till we are outside again,” said Louise quietly.
“But you will be very careful, Harry,” said Madelaine.