Nearly two months had passed before Billy's stock of
excuses and delay ran out, and a definite date was set for
the commencement of the journey.
"I believe," Miss Harding had said, "that you do not wish
to be rescued at all. Most of your reasons for postponing
the trip have been trivial and ridiculous--possibly you are
afraid of the dangers that may lie before us," she added,
banteringly.
"I'm afraid you've hit it off about right," he replied with
a grin. "I don't want to be rescued, and I am very much
afraid of what lies before--me."
"Before YOU?"
"I'm going to lose you, any way you look at it, and--
and--oh, can't you see that I love you?" he blurted out,
despite all his good intentions.
Barbara Harding looked at him for a moment, and then
she did the one thing that could have hurt him most--she
laughed.
The color mounted to Billy Byrne's face, and then he went
very white.
The girl started to say something, and at the same instant
there came faintly to them from the mainland the sound of
hoarse shouting, and of shots.
Byrne turned and started on a run in the direction of the
firing, the girl following closely behind. At the island's edge
he motioned her to stop.
"Wait here, it will be safer," he said.
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