“Y–yes,” she admitted. “My presence equalized matters.”
As the men were four to two she scored distinctly.
“Give way, Peter,” said Warden. “If I laugh I shall swallow more salt water than is good for me.”
He was soon seated astride the bows of the dinghy, which Peter’s strong arms brought quickly alongside the Sans Souci. By that time, the girl’s composure was somewhat restored. Warden obviously made so light of his ducking that she did not allude to it again. As for the gourd, it rested at her feet, but she seemed to have lost all interest in it. In truth, she was annoyed with herself for having championed her new friend’s cause, and thus, in a sense, condoned his folly.
It did not occur to her that the Sans Souci’s deck was singularly untenanted, until a gruff voice hailed the occupants of the dinghy from the top of the gangway.
“Below there,” came the cry. “Wotcher want here?”
The girl looked up with a flash of surprise in her expressive face. But she answered instantly:
“I am Miss Evelyn Dane, and I wish to see Mrs. Baumgartner.”
“She’s ashore,” was the reply.
“Well, I must wait until she returns.”