"I went to find my own people," said she at last. "I was afraid."
"Afraid of me?"
"I don't know," said Isbel; "you and Schumer, and being alone with you made me afraid."
"And you are not afraid any longer?"
"With you I am not any more afraid," said Isbel, speaking with difficulty, and drawing a little pattern on the sand with her finger tip. Then, looking up: "Not even with Schumer, if you were there."
Floyd was about to take her hand, but he restrained himself.
"That is good," said he. "You need never have been afraid of me. I care for you too much to let any one hurt you, and that morning when I came out of the house and found you gone, when I searched in the grove and along the reef and could not see you and thought you might be drowned and that I would never see you again, the world seemed no use any longer."
He rose to his feet as if to check his words, and walked off to the house, leaving Isbel still seated on the sand, and still drawing the pattern with her finger.
He returned with one of the Winchester rifles under his arm, a revolver in his hand, and one in his pocket.
Isbel rose, and, going down to the lagoon edge, they pushed the dinghy off, got in, and started for the fishing camp. As they drew near they saw that the fishing was going on apparently as usual, and the first person to greet them on the beach was Sru.