She was trying her best to obey orders, but being a sport was no slight undertaking under the circumstances. When they reached the clump of bushes her guide ordered her to rest.
“Just stop and catch your breath,” he said. “The rest is going to be easier, I think. And we haven't so very far to go.”
He was too optimistic. It was anything but easy; in fact, the last thirty feet was almost a tumble, owing to the clay giving way beneath their feet. But there was soft sand to tumble into and they reached the beach safe, though in a dishevelled, scratched and thoroughly smeared condition. Then Helen sat down and covered her face with her hands. Her rescuer gazed triumphantly up at the distant rim of broken sod and grinned.
“There, by George!” he exclaimed. “We did it, didn't we? Say, that was fun!”
She removed her hands and looked at him.
“WHAT did you say it was?” she faltered.
“I said it was fun. It was great! Like something out of a book, eh?”
She began to laugh hysterically. He turned to her in indignant surprise. “What are you laughing at?” he demanded.
“Oh—oh, don't, please! Just let me laugh. If I don't laugh I shall cry, and I don't want to do that. Just don't talk to me for a few minutes, that's all.”
When the few minutes were over she rose to her feet.