"
You bet she wasn't; nor of being out at night, nor of startin' a
strange engine. You should have seen her spin that wheel and juggle
the tiller ropes. Some girl!
"Got any clew as to where they are?" I asks.
"Only the general direction they took," says she. "But something must
be done. Think of Auntie being out at this hour! When we get past
those little islands we'll begin blowing the horn."
It was sort of weird, take it from me, moseyin' off that way at night
into a tangle of islands without any signs up to tell you which way you
was goin', or anybody in sight to ask directions of. The moon was
still doin' business, but it was droppin' lower every minute. Vee just
stands there calm, though, rollin' the wheel scientific, pickin' out
the deep water by the difference in color, and lettin' the _Agnes_ fade
away behind us as careless as if we had a return ticket.
"Excuse me for remarkin'," says I; "but, while I wouldn't be strong for
this sort of excursion as a general thing, with just you and me on the
passenger list I don't care if--"
"Blow the horn," cuts in Vee.
Yep, I blew. Over miles and miles of glassy water I blew it, listenin'
every now and then for an answer. All I raised, though, was a bird
squawk or so; and once we scared up a flock of white herons that sailed
off like so many ghosts.
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