"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the girl. "Oh, dear, oh, dear! what shall I do? ha, ha, ha, ha! oh, what shall I do?"
"Stop!" said Geoffrey Strong. "Do you hear me? stop!"
"Oh, yes, I hear you—but—it is so funny! oh, it is so funny! ha, ha, ha! what shall I do?"
"What shall I do?" said Geoffrey to himself. "She'll have the canoe over in another minute." He crept toward the girl, and seized her wrists in a firm grip.
"Be still!" he said. "I shall hold you until you are quiet. Be—still! no more! be still!"
"You—hurt me!" whispered the girl. The wild laughter had died away, but she was still shaking, and the tears were running down her cheeks.
"I mean to hurt you. I shall hurt you more, if you are not quiet. As soon as you are quiet I will let you go. Be—still—still—there!"
He loosed her hands, and took up the paddle again. This kind of thing was very exhausting; he was quivering himself, quite perceptibly. Now why? nerves of sympathy?
He paddled on in silence; the sun went down, and the afterglow spread and brightened along the sky. He hardly thought of his companion, his whole mind bent on suppressing the turmoil that was going on in himself.
He started at the sound of her voice; it was faint, but perfectly controlled.