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Updated: May 28, 2025
She was running before them, rising sharply, and dropping down into the hollows, out of sight of all but the schooner's canvas, and though this made rowing easier, Wyllard was apprehensive of difficulties when he reached the ice. His misgivings proved warranted, for the ice presented an almost unbroken wall against the face of which the sea spouted.
The whole situation was horribly embarrassing, but Agatha had courage in her. "Well," she promised simply, "I will speak to him." They said nothing more until they approached the Range, and as they drove by the outbuildings Agatha glanced about her curiously. It occurred to her that the homestead did not look quite the same as it appeared when Wyllard was there.
"Yes," she replied presently. "I am glad you look at it that way, Sally." The girl laughed. "Oh!" she said, "I've only seen one man on the prairie who was quite white all through, and I had a kind of notion that he was fond of you." Agatha sat very still, but it cost her an effort. Her face asked the question that was in her heart. "Harry Wyllard," announced Sally.
"Where have you been?" she asked. "Down there," answered Wyllard, pointing to the black opening in the fore-hatch that led to the steerage quarters. "An acquaintance of mine who's traveling forward asked me to take a look round, and I'm rather glad I did. When I've had a word with the chief steward I'm going back again." "You have a friend down there?"
He came straight toward her, apparently regardless of the others, and, clasping the hands she held out, drew her into the house. "So you have not married Gregory yet?" he questioned, and laughed triumphantly when he saw the answer in her shining eyes. "No," she said softly, "it is certain that I will never marry him." Wyllard drew her back still further with a compelling grasp. "Why?" he asked.
I can't head right away for Vancouver with no mainsail." This was clear to Wyllard, who made a weak gesture. "If the wind comes easterly?" Dampier pursed up his lips. "Then, unless I could fetch one of the Kuriles, we'd sure be jammed. She won't beat to windward, and there'd be all Kamtchatka to lee of us.
He saw the gleam in Agatha's eyes. "Oh!" she said, "that is just what he must have done. He was like that always impulsive, splendidly generous." Wyllard felt that he had succeeded, though he knew that there were men on the prairie who called his comrade slackly careless, instead of impulsive. Agatha, however, spoke again. "But Gregory wasn't a carpenter," she said.
Then, as gasping and dripping they made their last effort, a sea rolled up ahead, and Wyllard had a momentary glimpse of an opening not far away as she swung up with it. He shouted to his companions, but could not tell whether they heard and understood him, for after that he was only conscious of sculling savagely until another sea broke into her and she struck.
Twice in succession the harvest failed. Perhaps Lance Radcliffe felt as I did." The girl cut him short. "Why didn't you mention the photograph at once?" Wyllard smiled at her. "Oh," he explained, "I didn't want to be precipitate you English folk don't seem to like that. I think" and he seemed to consider "I wanted to make sure you wouldn't be repelled by what might look like Colonial brusquerie.
He wrote on a strip of paper which he handed to Wyllard. "You will take these, and nothing else. I may add that Smirnoff is stationed at the inlet where the schooner lies." Wyllard thanked him, and then looked him in the eyes. "There is a long journey before us, and you have only my word that I will take nothing but these things." Overweg nodded quietly.
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