“My father will pay you well if you take us back,” he managed to articulate.
“No crossa that bay to-night,” replied the man.
“But how are we to get back?”
“Si you walka three, four, five miles—no can remember—you finda one ferra-boat.” And he sauntered away.
Cecil returned to the boat and helped Lee to land. “I’m awfully sorry,” he said. “What a beastly mess I’ve got you into!”
“Oh, never mind,” said Lee cheerfully. “I reckon I can walk.”
“You are a jolly sort. Come on then.” But his brow was set in gloom.
Lee took his hand. “You looked just splendid when you talked to that horrid man,” she said. “I am sure he was afraid of you!”
Cecil’s brow shot forth the nimbus of the conqueror.
“Lee,” he said in a tone of profound conviction, “you have more sense than all the rest of the girls in the world put together. Come on and I’ll help you along.”