It was not a long wait.Victor was in difficulties almost from the beginning.The oar belonging to the dingy was a foot longer than the one I had given him and he zig-zagged wildly.Soon he was in the edge of the eelgrass and "catching crabs," first on one side, then on the other.The dingy's bow slid up on the mud.He stood up to push it off, and the stern swung around.Getting clear, he took a fresh start and succeeded only in fouling again.This time he got further into the tangle before he grounded.The bow rose and the stern settled.There was a mighty splashing, as Victor pushed and tugged, but the dingy stuck fast.And there she would continue to stick for four hours unless I, or some one else, helped her off.
I did not want to help.In fact, I looked all up and down the bay before I made a move.But it was dinner time and there was not another soul afloat.More than that, I noticed, as I had not noticed before, that brown clouds--wind clouds--were piling up in the west, and, if I was anything of a prophet, we would have squalls and dirty weather long before those four hours were over.
And the dingy, in that position, was not safe to face a blow.No, as the small boys say, it was "up to me." I wished it was not, but it was.
So again I went to the rescue, but this time in an entirely different frame of mind.My anger and resentment had settled to a cold determination, and this trip was purely business.I was not at a disadvantage now, as I had been when I first met that girl and her friend, in "Big Jim" Colton's library.I was master of this situation and master I intended to be.
I sculled the skiff straight in to the edge of the flat, at a point where the bank sloped sharply to deep water.I threw over my anchor, shortened the rope and made it fast.Then I stepped out into water above my shoe tops and waded toward the dingy.The water was icy cold, but I did not know it at the time.
I splashed through the eelgrass.Victor saw me coming and roared an angry protest.He was still trying to push the boat off with an oar.
"Here!" he shouted."You keep away.We don't want you."I did not care what he wanted.I splashed alongside the dingy and looked at her and the position she was in.My mind was made up instantly.
"You'll never get her off if you both stay aboard," I said."Let the lady move amidships and you get out and wade."He glared at me as if I were as crazy as Colton or Lute had declared me to be.Then he laughed contemptuously.
"You go back where you came from," he ordered."I'm running this.""Yes, I've noticed that.Now I'll state the facts as plainly as Ican.This boat is fast aground in the mud, the tide is still going out, and there are squalls coming.She must be got off or there may be danger.You can't get her off until she is lightened.Will you get out and wade?"He did not answer; instead he continued to push with the oar.Iturned to the girl.
"Miss Colton," I said, "I must ask you to stand up.Be careful when you rise."She made no move, nor did she reply.The look she gave me was enough.
"You must stand up," I repeated, firmly."Either your--this gentleman--must get out, as I tell him to, or I shall have to carry you to my skiff.We haven't any time to spare."She gazed at me in blank astonishment.Then the color flamed in her cheeks and her eyes flashed.
"We don't wish your help," she said, icily.
"I'm sorry, but that makes no difference.I--"Victor whirled on me, the oar in his hands.I thought for an instant he was going to strike me with it.
