Where is Harry, by the way?"--her eyes lit and fastened upon me--
"Good Lord! what have you been doing to the child?"
"Nothing, ma'am. He has been exploring, and lost his way; that's
all."
"H'm! he seems to have lost it pretty badly. Well, he deserved it.
But, as I was saying, along comes my gentleman, pulling with just the
easy jerk which is the way to make a boat of that sort travel.
Goodfellow was keeping watch. They say that a sailor will recognize
a boat half a mile further off than he'll recognize the man in it,
but Goodfellow isn't a sailor, so that explanation won't fit.
We'll say that he was prepared for the boat returning, but not to
find an entire stranger pulling her. At all events, he let her come
within a couple of gunshots before calling down to the cabin and
giving the alarm. I had my legs up on a locker, and was taking a
siesta over a book--'Parkinson _On The Dog_'--and, by the way, we
were a set of fools not to bring a dog; but I ran up the companion in
a jiffy, and had the sense to catch up your spyglass as I went.
Goodfellow by this time had begun to dance about the deck in a
flutter. He had the tinder-box in his hand, and wanted to know if he
should touch off a rocket.
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