The Ensign was writhing inwardly, but managed to say, "Yes; very deep."
Mackenzie came out and wasted half of a precious hour in talking, though Ronald answered only in monosyllables. Beatrice exerted her rarest powers of entertainment for her uncle's benefit, and he did not notice how the time passed.
"Well," he said, at length, "I guess I'll go across for a bit. I want to see the Captain." Forsyth joined him at the gate, and Ronald heaved a sigh of relief when they were safely on their way to the Fort.
"Your face is red, Mr. Ronald," said Beatrice. She was rewarded by seeing the colour deepen.
"What makes it that way?" she asked, with the air of one pursuing a subject of scientific interest.
"It's the heat," explained the Ensign, miserably; "didn't you know it was hot?"
She shook her head. "I never know anything unless I'm told."
"I believe you," he growled.
"Mr. Ronald," she said, with a bewildering smile, "what makes you so cross to me?"