The oarsmen in the wherries bent their
muscles to the strife, the boats danced over the tiny crests, the ladies
sang their breeziest sea-songs to cheer them at the work. The sail-boat
rounded a curve and was almost out of sight.
"Oars never caught sails yet," muttered St. George, and he put his boat
to the shore. "There, Murray, try your lazy mettle, and take my oar. As
for me, I'm off,"--and he sprang upon the bank, sending the boat
spinning off into the current again from his foot. In ten minutes a
horseman went galloping by on the high-road skirting the shore, with a
pace like that of the Spectre of the Storm.
"Now, Mr. Marlboro'," said Eloise, "shall we not turn back, victorious?"
"Turn?" said Marlboro', shaking loose another fold of the linen. "I
never turn! Look your last on the tiny tribe,--we shall see them no
more!"
Eloise sprang to her feet. He caught her hand and replaced her; his face
was so white that it shone, there was a wild glitter in his eye, and the
smile that brooded over her had something in it absolutely terrific.
"We have gone far enough," said Eloise, resolutely. "I wish to rejoin my
friends."
"You are with me!" said Marlboro', proudly.
She was afraid to say another word, for to oppose him now in his
exultant rage might only work the mood to frenzy.
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