Farrar and I, as navigators, were glad to get
into our overcoats, while the others assembled in the little cabin and
lighted the gasoline stove which stood in the corner. Outside we had our
pipes for consolation, and the sunset beauty of the lake.
By six we were well over the line, and consulting our chart, we selected
a cove behind a headland on our left, which seemed the best we could do
for an anchorage, although it was shallow and full of rocks. As we were
changing our course to run in, Mr. Cooke appeared, bundled up in his
reefer. He was in the best of spirits, and was good enough to concur
with our plans.
"Now, sir," asked Farrar, "what do you propose to do with Allen?"
But our client only chuckled.
"Wait and see, old man," he said; "I've got that all fixed."
"Well," Farrar remarked, when he had gone in again, "he has steered it
deuced well so far. I think we can trust him."
It was dark when we dropped anchor, a very tired party indeed; and as the
Maria could not accommodate us all with sleeping quarters, Mr. Cooke
decided that the ladies should have the cabin, since the night was cold.
And so it might have been, had not Miss Thorn flatly refused to sleep
there. The cabin was stuffy, she said, and so she carried her point.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57