“If you are sure it will agree with you,” remarked Miss Leslie.
“But I am sure of that, Miss Genevieve. I could digest anything to-day. I’m fairly ravenous.”
“All the more reason to be careful,” rejoined Blake. “I guess, though, what we’ve had’ll do no harm. We’ll let it settle a bit, here in the shade, and then hit the home trail.”
“Could we not first go to the river, Mr. Blake? My hands are dreadfully sticky.”
“Win will take you. It’s only a little way to the bank here and there’s not much underbrush.”
“If you think it’s quite safe–” remarked Winthrope.
“It’s safe enough. Go on. You’ll see the river in half a minute. Only thing, you’d better watch out for alligators.”
“I believe that–er–properly speaking, these are crocodiles.”
“You don’t say! Heap of difference it will make if one gets you.”
Miss Leslie caught Winthrope’s eye. He turned on his heel, and led the way for her through the first thicket. Beyond this they came to a little glade which ran through to the river. When they reached the bank, they stepped cautiously down the muddy slope, and bathed their hands in the clear water. As Miss Leslie rose, Winthrope bent over and began to drink.