“Now more than once they had seen a very pretty little yacht careering about, as if watching them, but they had no suspicion of anything like foul play.
“It was seen again and again after this, but when one day it stood away in through an island-bound creek—
“‘I’ll bet a penny,’ said Brackenbury, ‘that that is some English lord out on the sport; what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, let’s follow him.’
“‘Agreed,’ said O’Brady.
“And so they did.
“They soon found themselves in an unusually romantic spot. A little bay it was, with a native village at the head of it, which looked imposing as seen from the sea. Then there was a beautiful river meandering down through a well-wooded, rolling valley, and far inland were hills and mountains.
“The yacht lay there at anchor, but she had hoisted Spanish colours. Next morning at breakfast—
“‘I feel unusually young this morning,’ said Brackenbury.
“‘So do I,’ replied O’Brady. ‘It’s the air, I suppose, but I do feel as gay as a lark.’
“‘Suppose we have a little lark, then, all by ourselves up in this valley—eh? What say? A kind of private picnic?’