With the aid of a stout line, I soon made the raft fast to a rock. Then as I turned I saw that Miss Croyden was standing upon the raft, fully dressed, and gazing at me. The morning sunlight played in her hair, and her deep blue eyes were as soft as the Caribbean Sea itself.
"Don't attempt to wade ashore, Miss Croyden," I cried in agitation. "Pray do nothing rash. The waters are simply infested with bacilli."
"But how can I get ashore?" she asked, with a smile which showed all, or nearly all, of her pearl-like teeth.
"Miss Croyden," I said, "there is only one way. I must carry you."
In another moment I had walked back to the raft and lifted her as tenderly and reverently as if she had been my sister—indeed more so—in my arms.
Her weight seemed nothing. When I get a girl like that in my arms I simply don't feel it. Just for one moment as I clasped her thus in my arms, a fierce thrill ran through me. But I let it run.
When I had carried her well up the sand close to the little stream, I set her down. To my surprise, she sank down in a limp heap.
The girl had fainted.
I knew that it was no time for hesitation.
Running to the stream, I filled my hat with water and dashed it in her face. Then I took up a handful of mud and threw it at her with all my force. After that I beat her with my hat.