CHAPTER XXIV.
IN WHICH PHIL GOES TO SLEEP, AND HIS SEVEREST CATASTROPHE COMES.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Mr. Whippleton, angrily, as he came alongside of the Marian in the tender.
"I was only looking to see where you were going. I was afraid you might forget that I was here, and go off without me."
"You are a fool! You make more blunders in the same time than any other fellow that ever I saw," he added, interlarding his elegant discourse with coarse and horrid oaths. "Why didn't you stay where you were till I came back?"
"I was not quite sure that you would come back."
"You were not? Who set you to dog all my movements?"
"I set myself to do it; and I intend to carry out my plan. I thought you were going to Chicago with me."
"I am, if you don't ground that boat, or wreck her, before I get ready. You go blundering about a place you know nothing at all about, as though you considered the safety of that boat of no consequence."
"I consider your safety as of a great deal more consequence," I answered, with becoming frankness. "If you are going to Chicago with me, what are you doing in that corner of the lagoon?"