“Your face is all over blood,” said Michelle. “Best wash, sir. Might scare ’em worse than a bear.”
“That is so.” Ceasing to paddle, he took the boat sponge, and made a hasty toilet.
“Am I clean, Michelle?”
“Well—pretty fair, sir. You are right well painted. It was awful lucky you took a mind to try for a shot at that other seal.”
“Yes. Shove her along!” He took the paddle again, and fell to thinking, until they came to the beach. There was no one in sight. He ran up the steps, noticing that there was one canoe on the shore. Then he paused, and, returning, called Tom.
“Go up and tell Mr. Lyndsay I want to see him.”
Presently Mr. Lyndsay came down the steps.
“Mr. Carington!” And he stayed a moment, surprised at the appearance of the blood-stained man. “What is it?” he said. “Anything wrong?”
“Miss Lyndsay has had a slight accident. She is all right now. I came on ahead to tell you. It is really—really not serious. They were scared by a bear on the beach. I was lucky enough to kill it, but, in trying to escape, your daughter fell and struck her head, and—oh, it bled a bit. Oh, here is the canoe.”
Rose, freshened by the air and motion, got up, laughing, and ran to her father.