“That dark spot over yonder.”
“Y-yes.”
“It’s another island. There’s a cabin on it, and a boat house. Boats too. And in the cabin there is a fireplace and easy chairs, blankets, and—and things to eat.” She swayed a little.
“It—it’s not far.” She steadied herself on his arm. “I—I think I could swim it.”
“But you’ll not!” Red began stripping off his coat. “I’ll swim it and bring back a boat. Here, hold this. I’ll take off my shoes, too. The rest doesn’t matter. I’ll be soaked anyway.”
Another moment and he was in the water swimming strongly.
Red was a fine swimmer. In the slips where rusty ore boats lay at anchor in his home city he had learned to swim before he could talk well.
The distance to the island he found surprisingly short. Before he knew it he was touching rocky shoals that led up to a low bank lined with spruce and birches.
As he stood there shaking the water from him like a spaniel, he saw a dark bulk to his right.
“Boat house.” He flashed the electric torch, which he had carried across in his teeth.