At this the movements of the old tar were peculiar.
He put the flask down on a flat rock; then he spread his legs apart like a pair of compasses, and thrust both hands in his pockets, looking at his friend with eyebrows elevated almost to the top of his forehead.
"This," said he, slowly, "is an insultin' proposition. Avast! avast! about buyin' my grog! D'ye think I would sell it, if it'll be of any use to the gal? No; she is perfectly welcome to that and to a gallon, had I as much in my possession."
"Nay, Harry," said Mary sweetly, noticing the wistful glances the old tar cast at the bottle, even while delivering his magnanimous speech.
"Mr. Turk shall keep his liquor. I will not need it! See, I am quite strong!" and she rose briskly to her feet.
"Mr. Turk," muttered the old sailor, "that Mr. which I ain't heard for many a year, sounds mighty queer. It's too respectful to sich an old hulk as me, Miss. Please drop it and call me plain Tom Turk."
"Tom Turk it shall be, then," answered the young girl.
As she spoke, there was a rustling in the shrubbery near the fire.
"Savages!" gasped Mary; "let us fly."
She shrank back, when parting the bushes a familiar form emerged to view.