Part 36 (1/2)

”Do you think Mr. Whippleton will come back, Philip?”

”Come back? Yes,” I replied, rather startled by the question.

”He may take one of those boats, go on sh.o.r.e, and make his way across the state to the east.”

”Then you think it is possible that I was not mistaken in regard to the accounts of Mr. Whippleton?”

”Of course it is possible. It just occurred to me that he might have taken this method of getting rid of you.”

”You are right, Marian. I ought to have gone with them, for they have taken both boats, and there isn't a breath of wind.”

”I don't mean that it is so, only that it might be.”

”Now I think of it, he said in his letter that he had sold the Florina, and was to deliver her in St. Joseph to-morrow. If he had not intended to have cleared out, he would not have sold her. I am afraid I have made another blunder.”

I was vexed at my own want of precaution. Mr. Whippleton had taken both tenders, and it seemed to me now that he had done so in order to prevent me from following him. He intended to leave his own with his yacht, and to return in that belonging to the Marian. I do not even now know that Miss Collingsby had not suggested his real purpose, for while I was vexing myself about the blunder I had made, the waters were rippled by a gentle breeze. I sprang forward and hauled up the anchor with a celerity that was worthy of the occasion. The mainsail was still up, and taking the helm, I ran the yacht up the lagoon. I could just see the outline of the Florina in the gloom, and a few puffs of wind carried us up to her.

There was a light in the cabin of the Florina, and both the tenders were alongside. Mr. Whippleton had not gone yet, whatever he intended to do, and I breathed freely again.

”Gorrificious!” shouted Peter from the deck of the Florina. ”Where you goin' now?”

”Stand by to catch a line,” I replied.

”All ready; heave the line,” added the cook.

In a moment we were fast to the other yacht, and I firmly determined not to lose sight of Mr. Whippleton again, under any circ.u.mstances. We had hardly made fast before the wind died out again. It was only a puff which had come to my aid, as it were providentially, and had enabled me to gain my point. I had noticed, when Mr. Whippleton left the Florina, that he took with him the leather bag, which contained his money and valuable papers; but I had thought nothing of the circ.u.mstance at the time, for it seemed to me quite natural that he should be very careful of an article of so much value. If that providential puff of air had not enabled me to throw the Marian alongside his yacht, I am satisfied, in the light of subsequent events, that he would have made an attempt to elude me. He could have gone on sh.o.r.e in the tender, lived in the woods, or at the cabin of some settler, for a week or more, until I was tired of waiting for him, and then taken to his yacht, and escaped by the way of Canada.

”What are you doing up here, Phil?” shouted the subject of all my anxious solicitude, as he came out of the cabin of the Florina.

”We had a little breeze, and I came up to save you the trouble of rowing,” I replied.

”You have a talent for making blunders, Phil,” growled he, in a tone which did much to confirm my suspicions.

”Not a bad blunder, since I am safe here,” I replied.

”You might have run her aground, and we should have had to leave her here all summer. Don't you know any better than to run about in the night where you are not acquainted? Is that the way you use other people's boats?”

”The Marian is still afloat, and safe. Do you want any help?”

”No; no such help as you can give. You can't do anything without making a blunder. I should like to knock the conceit out of you.”

The more blunders he charged upon me, and the more savage he was, the better a.s.sured I became that I had hit the nail on the head. As we were playing at cross-purposes, it was evident that all my direct thrusts would be regarded as blunders by him. What suited him could not possibly suit me, under the present circ.u.mstances. I did not know what he was doing on board of the Florina, and I did not care, so long as I knew where he was. He went into the cabin after he had expressed his mind to me, and I did not see him again for over an hour.

”You must be tired, Marian,” I said to my fair companion, as I heard her gape.

”I am tired, Philip.”

”Why not lie down, then? I will watch over you, and see that no harm comes to you while you sleep.”