Yet what a ring there was to his voice!–so clear and tonic after Winthrope’s precise, modulated drawl. And her countryman’s firmness! He could be rude if need be; but he would make her do what he thought was best for her health. Was it not possible that she had misunderstood his words on the cliff, and so misjudged–wronged–him?–that Winthrope, so eager to stipulate for her hand– But then Winthrope had more than confirmed her dreadful conclusions taken from Blake’s words, and Winthrope was an English gentleman. It could not be possible that an English gentleman–
She ended in a state of utter bewilderment.
CHAPTER XVI
THE SAVAGE MANIFEST
As Winthrope had succeeded in dragging himself to and from the headland without a collapse, the following morning, as soon as the dew was dry, Blake called out all hands for the expedition. He was in the best of humors, and showed unexpected consideration by presenting Winthrope with a cane, which he had cut and trimmed during the night.
Having sent Miss Leslie to fill the whiskey flask with spring water, he dropped three cocoanut-shell bowls, a piece of meat and a lump of salt into one of the earthenware pots, and slung all over his shoulder in the antelope skin. With his bow hung over the other shoulder, knife and arrows in his belt, and his big club in hand, he looked ready for any contingency.
“We’ll hit first for the mouth of the river,” he said. “I’m going on ahead. If I’m not in sight when you come up, pick a tree where the ground is dry, and wait.”
“But I say, Blake,” replied Winthrope, “I see animals over in the coppices, and you should know that I am physically unable–”
“Nothing but antelope,” interrupted Blake. “I’ve seen them enough now to know them twice as far off. And you can bet on it they’d not be there if any dangerous beast was in smelling distance.”
“That is so clever of you, Mr. Blake,” remarked Miss Leslie.