But just as we were beginning to feel
seriously alarmed a voice shouted from the opposite shore, and Mr.
Rogers came sculling out from the shadow of the woods, working the
dinghy towards us with a single paddle overstern.
"Sorry, Captain!" he hailed. "Two deserters in two days! Oh, we're
a cheerful team to drive! But I have my excuse ready. The fact
is--" Here, catching sight of Dr. Beauregard, Mr. Rogers stopped
short.
"I fancy," said the Doctor, amiably, turning to Captain Branscome,
"your friend has not his excuse so ready as he supposed. Doubtless
he'll impart it to you later on. Meanwhile, I would suggest that we
take him along with us."
"But where are we going?" asked Captain Branscome.
"To my house. Ah, it is news to you that I have one? You supposed,
perhaps, that the Lord Proprietor of Mortallone roosted at night in
the trees? But where, in that case, would he stack his wine?
My dear sir, I have a house, _and_ cellarage, to the both of which
you shall be made welcome. Even if you decline my hospitality we
have the invalid here to dispose of, and surely you won't condemn a
man of my years to carry him home pick-a-back!"
"But the schooner--"
"I give you my word of honour, sir, that your ship shall not be
visited nor tampered with in any way.
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