But after a little while a harsh voice on the deck of the yacht interrupted the musician. They could not distinguish the words, but the speaker was evidently annoyed by the music, for it stopped, and then, for a few minutes, there was an argument in which the voices of two men rose shrilly.
“Well, I guess the concert is over,” said Dolly, getting up. “Who wants a drink? I’m thirsty.”
“So am I!” came in chorus from half a dozen of those who were sitting on the sands.
“Serve you right if you all had to go after your own water,” said Dolly. “But I’m feeling nice to-night. I guess it’s the music. Come on, Bessie—feel like taking a little walk with me?”
“I don’t mind,” said Bessie, rising, and stretching her arms luxuriously. “Where are you going?”
“Up the bluff first, to get a pail of water from that spring. After that—well, we’ll see.”
“Just like Jack and Jill,” said Bessie, as they trudged up the path, carrying a pail between them.
“I hope we won’t be like them and fall down,” said Dolly. “I suppose I’d be Jack—and I don’t want to break my crown.”
“It’s an easy path. I guess we’re safe enough,” said Bessie. “It really hardly seems worth while to fix up that pipe-line Miss Eleanor spoke about.”
“Oh, you’ll find it’s worth while, Bessie. The salt air makes everyone terribly thirsty, and after you’ve climbed this path a few times it won’t seem so easy to be running up and down all the time. There are so many other things to do here that it’s a pity to waste time doing the same thing over and over again when you don’t really need to.”