Dave came on the run. “What’s the rumpus? What’s up?” he demanded.
“This,” she said, with as much dignity as she could command, “this is Chips. The island needs him. We’re sailing as soon as possible, that is—” her voice trailed off, “if you’re agreed.”
Dave said, “O. K. by me,” and it was done. One passenger. Ten dollars.
This was not the last unusual incident of that day—there was more to come. Chips had gone for his luggage. Florence was slowly pacing the deck when a girl shorter and broader than herself appeared before her on the dock.
“I am Katie,” said the girl. Florence knew she must be a Finlander.
“Katie who?” Florence smiled.
“I am Katie Eskelund,” said the girl. “And I am going to Isle Royale.”
“What place on Isle Royale?” Florence asked.
“Siskowit Bay.” The girl lowered a heavy blanket roll to the dock.
“She’s strong,” Florence thought, “strong as a man. How she could send a boat through the water!”