“I wish we had one of those glass bottom boats that the natives row the tourists around in at some of the South Sea Islands,” Breck said.
“There still doesn’t seem to be any sign of natives on this island to row us around in even an oak bottomed boat. Shall we just snoop about and hunt for some one or shall we stand here and yell till some one materializes?” Jane asked as she stepped out on the beach.
At the sound of her voice, there was a slight movement on one of the big slabs of granite and a boy of about sixteen, dressed in a gray flannel shirt and faded dungarees, stood up.
CHAPTER X
HURRICANE ISLAND
Jane went over to him, smiling in her friendly way. The boy slipped down from his rock with the grace of a wild animal. Jane thought that she had never seen a more beautiful and charming looking boy. Very tall and with a small well-set head, he had the unmistakable look of race.
“I am Jane Pellew and this is Allen Breckenbridge,” said Jane with a strange little thrill as she realized that she had used Breck’s full name in the introduction.
She stretched out her hand and it was taken with the greatest poise and courteousness. “I am Frederick Gray,” he said, dropping her hand and giving Breck a cordial little nod.
His voice had the peculiar quality of keeping the same tone, never rising or falling at the end of a sentence, and there seemed to be a definite spacing between each word. It did not, however, produce the monotonous, sing-song effect that Jane had so often noticed in the New Englanders’ voices. The boy’s voice was full and rich and soothing.