“Are you goin’ for a cruise, Miss Mary?” asked the seaman in a manner that drew the scout’s attention.
“No,” replied Mary with a little laugh, and anything but a little blush, that intensified the attention of the scout. He gave one of his quiet but quick glances at Dick and chuckled softly.
“So soon!” he murmured to himself; “sartinly your sea-dog is pretty slick at such matters.”
Dick thought he heard the chuckle and turned a lightning glance on the scout, but that sturdy son of the forest had his leathern countenance turned towards the sky with profoundest gravity. It was characteristic of him, you see, to note the signs of the weather.
“Mr Brooke,” he said, with the slow deliberate air of the man who forms his opinions on solid grounds, “there’s goin’ to be a bu’st up o’ the elements afore long, as sure as my name’s Hunky.”
“That’s the very thing I want to talk about with you, Ben, for I meditate a long journey immediately. Come, walk with me.”
Taking the scout’s arm he paced with him slowly up and down the yard, while Dick and Mary went off on a cruise elsewhere.