Shorn of her hat and her elaborate hair-dressing, the lady was no longer showy, and Saterlee, out of the tail of an admiring eye, began to see real beauties about her that had hitherto eluded him. Whatever other good qualities and virtues she may have tossed overboard during a stormy and unhappy life, she had still her nerve with her. So Saterlee told himself.
"It will be easier, won't it," she said, "if you have my hair to hold by? I think I can manage to keep on my back."
"May I, Ma'am?" said Saterlee.
She laughed at his embarrassment. And half-thrust the two great braids into the keeping of his strong left hand.
A moment later Saterlee could no longer keep his footing.
"Now, Ma'am," he said, "just let yourself go."
And he swam to shallow water, not without great labor, towing Mrs. Kimbal by the hair. But here he picked her up in his arms, this time with no word spoken, and carried her ashore. Some moments passed.
"Well," she said, laughing, "aren't you going to put me down?"
"Oh!" said he, terribly confused, "I forgot. I was just casting an eye around for that horse. She's gone."
"Never mind—we'll walk."