"'Here's business,' said I, and hurried after him, leaving Farrell to
limp down the hill-side in our wake. For once the dog recognised me
as more intelligent or, at any rate, prompter than his master, and
gave his whole attention to me. . . . I tumbled down the hill after
him in a haste that fairly set my temples throbbing. Once sure of
me, he played no more at backwards-and-forwards, but bounded down the
slope towards the innermost southern corner of the bay, where a grove
of coco-trees almost overhung the beach. A curtain of creepers
bunched over the low cliff at their feet and into this he plunged and
disappeared.
"But his barking still led me on; and presently, as I avoided the
undergrowth and creepers to follow the foreshore, sounded back to me
across a low spit of rock. I climbed this and came all unexpectedly
upon a diminutive creek.
"It was really but a fissure between the rocks, with deep water
between them and an abrupt, dolls'-house-beach of sand and shells
above it, terminating in a flat, overhanging ledge. And on this
ledge rested a white-painted boat, high and dry! From the
stern-sheets the dog barked at me joyously, wagging his tail, with
his fore-feet on the edge of the stern-board.
Pages:
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417