“Ay,” said Jill, “that’s more to the point.”
“Well, I’m going to tell you, Greenie, if you’ll only give me time. I’d have told you all about it yesterday, but you wouldn’t spare a minute away from Jack.
“You see, then, when we got separated in that snow-squall, we did not take much thought about you at first. We remembered you had a boat compass, and that Ritchie was a good man, and naturally supposed you would find your way here.
“The squally weather continued, but in the very thick of it we found ourselves alongside a steamer—the same saucy little Chilian man-o’-war that so kindly went in search of you. And it isn’t fun, I can tell you, to search all up and down among these coves and creeks and islands and forests and glens.
“Well, they took us on board, and made very much of us all the way to Sandy Point, and Captain Coates and our little mother Coates, with Leila, are now living with the governor.
“We waited two days to see if you would show your noses. Then matters looked serious, and as the captain of the gunboat had had several men killed by the Foogies two summers ago, he all the more readily consented to go to look for the missing boat.
“Well, we just looked till we found you. That is the long and the short of it. We searched the wrong shore first. But really I had hoped you had gone down in the squall; that your boat had foundered, and you had been all drowned-dead, as Ritchie would say.”
“But why, in the name of mystery, Peter, did you wish us drowned?”
“Why, because I imagined it would be death somehow; and, to tell you the truth, I couldn’t bear the thoughts of your being killed and eaten.
“Just fancy,” continued Peter, looking mischievously at Jill, “just fancy Greenie here served up with parsley and butter sauce, or however they do serve them up.”