"Well," he said, "it's our own fault for letting you into the canoe. The trouble was you couldn't be trusted alone with the sloop either. Pshaw! We've no use for folks of your kind in this country."
This was intolerable, because part of it was true, and Frank felt his heart thumping painfully. But he made a last effort, and panting, straining, taxing every muscle to the utmost, he drove the canoe ahead, and eventually managed to grasp the sloop's lee rail. He could not speak, and as he breathlessly crawled on board Harry snatched the rope from him and made it fast.
"Trim that jibsheet over," he commanded.
Frank obeyed him and when they hauled on the mainsheet the sloop once more gathered speed, while Frank glancing astern saw a strip of slanted sail appear around the corner of the head. Then he glanced ashore, and though he saw no sign of Mr. Oliver the slope to the beach was not remarkably steep and he fancied that the rancher would not have much trouble in ascending it.
CHAPTER XXIV
A FAST RUN
After they had trimmed sail Frank sat still for a while to recover his breath and, if possible, his composure. He felt that it was necessary to demand an explanation from his companion. Though they had once or twice had a difference of opinion, this was the first time that Harry had been insulting, and Frank found it impossible to pass over what he had said. When he felt able to speak clearly he looked his companion in the eyes.
"Now," he began, "I'll admit that you can shoot and sail a boat rather better than I can, but that doesn't entitle you to talk as you did just now."
"I don't know if it matters, but I've a notion that I did shout," Harry answered calmly.
"That only makes it worse," Frank burst out warmly. "You couldn't call it shouting either. I once heard a coyote on the prairie, and it had a much sweeter voice than you have."