“Do you expect me to do the rowing, Jim?” said Miss Carmichael.
The Kid yielded then. The girl settled herself comfortably in the stem, looking back at the fire. Soon they were out of the circle of light.
Suddenly Connor drew in his oar; stowed it away.
“Dixie,” he remarked. “You've made up your mind to go through with this business, eh?”
“Certainly,” she replied.
“You'll have to come across if you want my help. I won't go it blind.”
Miss Carmichael glanced back at the red glow in the sky, then out toward the slightly paling East.
“I'll tell you by sunrise,” she said. “The thing won't keep much longer than that, anyhow. It'll have to be fairly quick work.”
“All right,” said Connor. “That's an agreement. Now I'm going to take a nap. This current's taking us down fast enough. When you sight Tom's outfit, wake me up.” With which he curled up in the bow, and soon was snoring.
The Kid stowed his own oar, and crept to the girl's side.