Fascinated by this thought, Rackby bent closer. The tented leaves of the horse-chestnut did not stir. Surely the dusky cheek had actually a touch of crimson in the gloom.
This effect, far from being an illusion was produced by a lantern in the fist of a man swinging toward them with vast strides. And now the clock, obeying its north face, struck eight.
Before the last stroke had sounded the girl was made aware of the betraying light. She whirled out of Rackby's arms and ran toward Sam Dreed. The big viking stood with his feet planted well apart, and a mistrustful finger in his beard.
"Touch and go!" cried Caddie Sills, falling on his neck. "Do we go at the top of the tide, mister?"
"What hellion is that under the trees?" he boomed at her, striking the arm down savagely.
"You will laugh when you see," said Cad Sills, wrung with pain, but returning to him on the instant.
"On the wrong side of my face, maybe."
"Can't you see? It's the little harbor master."
"Ah! and standing in the same piece of dark with you, my girl."
Cad Sills laughed wildly. "Did ever I look for more thanks than this from any mortal man? Then I'm not disappointed. But let me ask you, have you taken your ship inside the island to catch the tide?"