THE HOUSE OF YORKE.
CHAPTER XXI.
AMONG THE BREAKERS.
When the boat had slipped away from Indian Point, at one side, and Carl Yorke had strode off through the woods, at the other, Captain Cary lifted again the dingy canvas, and entered the wigwam that Edith had just quitted. In doing so, he was obliged to stoop very low, for the opening scarcely reached as high as his shoulders, and, had he stood erect inside, he would have taken the whole structure up by the roots.
Dick still lay with his arms thrown above his head, and his face hidden in them.
His friend bent over him, and spoke with an affectation of hearty cheerfulness which was far from his real mood. “Come! come! don’t give up for a trifle, my boy. You’re more scared than hurt. All you need is a little brandy and courage. Everything will turn out rightly, never fear!”
“Don’t talk to me!” said Dick.
Captain Cary’s heart sank at the sound of that moaning voice. When Dick Rowan’s spirit broke, there was trouble indeed, and trouble which could neither be laughed nor reasoned away.