Hal had collected all the money he possessed in his small pockets—silver for Miss Cairn, and three big pennies for Mad Micky when the moment should arrive to reveal his hidden presence.
No wonder the boy's heart beat furiously, for of all his life's adventures this appeared the most thrilling and terrifying.
It was one thing to play at shipwrecked mariners and to storm castles in which no ogres dwelt—it proved a different matter to lie calmly concealed while Micky, who "had set his mind on a watery grave," let his frail barque tear across the Lough under a single head-sail.
The boy knew enough of the treacherous current and the strength of the tide to realize fully the perils of his passage.
Peeping from under his covering he could see the reckless face of his unconscious guide, fully aware that no man valuing his safety would sail as Mad Micky sailed that morning.
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"HE COULD SEE THE RECKLESS FACE OF HIS UNCONSCIOUS GUIDE."
The child's sensitive nature would have been tortured by fears but for the encouraging influence of a great unselfish love.
"It's for mother's sake!" he said, hiding his eyes from the swift, deep body of water, whipped into fury by the wind as it viciously lashed the sail.