“We ought to have made him give us two pairs,” complained Amy. “Then the two of you could row.”
“Listen to her!” cried Jessie. “She would never think of taking a turn at them. Not Miss Drew!”
“Oh, I am the captain,” declared Amy. “And the captain never does anything but steer.”
They had rowed by this time well up toward the northerly end of the island. Hackle Island Hotel sprawled upon the bluff over their heads. It was a big place, and the grounds about it were attractive.
“I don’t see Belle or Sally anywhere,” drawled Amy. “And see! There aren’t many bathers down on this beach.”
“This is the still-water beach,” explained Jessie. “I guess most of them like the surf bathing on the other side.”
There were winding steps leading up the bluff to the hotel. Not many people were on these steps, but the seabirds were flying wildly about the steps and over the brow of the bluff.
“Wonder what is going on over there?” drawled Amy, who faced the island just then.
Nell stopped rowing to look at the incipient blister on her left palm. Jessie bent near to see it, too. Nobody was looking across the bay toward the mainland.
“You’d better let me take the oars,” Jessie said. “You’ll have all the skin off your hand.”