“They can have them.” She gave her line a fling. “Gas driven things. Bah!” Her splendid muscles set her boat shooting forward. “What’s better than the good old oars and a boat that’s light and fast?”
“I wish, though,” she added with a scowl, “that they’d leave us alone.”
This sent her thoughts off on another tack. Once more her line was forgotten.
“Those people in that speed boat last night meant to run someone down,” she said with assurance. “Question is, who? And why? Were they after Petite Jeanne? Was it Green Eyes? Or were they after the lady of the island? She believes they were after her. But why were they after her? She didn’t tell me a thing. She—”
Of a sudden there came a great tug at her line.
“Wow!” she cried, dropping the oars and snatching at her pole. “Got a fish. Wonder what—
“Wow, what a yank!”
She gained possession of her rod in the nick of time. Not ten feet of line were on her reel when she seized the handle and held fast.
For a space of ten seconds it seemed the stout line would snap. Then it went slack.
“Dumb! Lost him. I—