Elsie dared not meet his eyes; a flood of understanding had suddenly

poured its miraculous waters over her. Incidents unimportant in

themselves, utterances which seemed to have no veiled intent at the

time, rushed in upon her with overwhelming conviction. Christobal

suspected her of flirting with Courtenay, and disapproved of it as

strongly as she herself had condemned Isobel's admitted efforts in the

same direction. Though not a little dismayed, she resolved to carry

the war into the enemy's territory.

"Why are you looking so glum, Dr. Christobal?" she demanded. "Has the

captain's quip given you a shock, or is it that you are surprised at my

levity?"

"I am neither shocked nor surprised, Miss Maxwell. I have not lived

fifty years in this Vale of Tears without being prepared for the

unexpected."

"Does that imply that you are disillusioned?"

"By no means. My heart is amazingly young. 'There is no fool like an

old fool,' you know."

"Oh, please don't speak of age in that way. You are far from being an

antiquity. Why, within the past twenty-four hours I have come to look

on you as a sort of elder brother, who can be indulgent even while he

chides."

Courtenay found himself wondering what had caused this flash of

rapiers. But, so far as he was concerned, the proceedings of the

Indians put a stop to any further share in the conversation. The canoe

had drifted closer to the ship. It was about eighty yards distant when

the Indian who was on his feet suddenly whirled a sling, and sent a

stone crashing through the window of the music-room. The heavy

missile, which, when picked up, was found to weigh nearly half a pound,

just missed Tollemache, who was the first to take note of the sharp

warning given by Suarez, but failed, nevertheless, to dodge quickly

enough.

The captain raised a double-barreled fowling-piece, the only gun on

board, and fired point blank at the savages. But the women were

paddling away vigorously, and the shot splashed in the water on all

sides of the canoe, though a howl and a series of violent contortions

showed that one, at least, of the pellets had stung the wizened Indian

whom Suarez believed to be a newcomer.

There was no second shot--cartridges were too precious to be wasted at

an impossible range--but the undeniable fact remained that the Indians

meant to be aggressive. For a little time no one spoke. They heard

the echoes of the gunshot faintly thrown back by the nearest wall of

rock; the regular plash of the paddles as the canoe sped shorewards was

distinctly audible. They watched the tiny craft until it vanished

round the wooded point which concealed Otter Creek. Then, to add to

the sense of loneliness and peace conveyed by the placid bay and the

green slopes beyond, a big whale rolled into view in the middle

distance, and blew a column of water high in air.




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