“Not a thing,” said Mike. “Say! You don’t think—”
“No! No!” She stopped him. “I don’t think anything like that. But I must find out, right away. Here, shake on it.” Her good, stout, capable hand gripped Mike’s blisters, but Mike never flinched.
CHAPTER X
RIDING THE STORM
True to their promise, when the Wanderer returned, Florence and Katie prepared a grand feast of roast chicken, hot biscuits and coffee for the weary young fire-fighters. None enjoyed this more than did Mike and Tony.
“When the next war comes,” Tony laughed, “you join up as Captain and we’ll be your privates!” Coming from Tony this was high praise.
“One thing sure,” Dave said, after the feast was over, “if you ever again need help from those boys you’ll get it without a murmur.”
“Chickens come high!” was Florence’s strange reply. “But I guess it’s worth it.”
Yes, chicken did come high. All those dressed birds must be replaced, and the little company’s purse was very flat. There was a worried note in Dave’s voice as he said, “Tomorrow we must return to the mainland for fuel oil. I wonder if we get it? The last bill isn’t paid yet!”
That worry was still with them as, after unloading the fishermen’s goods, they headed away across the glassy waters of Superior. But when Father Superior is in a happy mood, who can worry? “Never,” Florence thought, “was the water so smooth or the sky so blue.”
With Indian John at the wheel and Katie’s galley sending out delicious odors, the three of them, Dave, Florence and Jeanne, sat on deck looking dreamily off across the water.