"There can be no further trouble. Captain Henley and his crew are
prisoners."
"And no one was hurt? You were not?"
"Oh, there are a few sore heads, but nothing serious. I got a crack
myself; bled a little--see."
She placed her fingers on the wound, stroking the hair gently, her eyes
full of anxiety.
"Is that all? Please tell me; I--I heard a shot fired."
"Henley's revolver; no damage done. Really you must accept my
assurance. Come out into the cabin; Louis is getting breakfast ready."
"Where is the Lieutenant?" hesitating slightly.
"In Henley's cabin, going through the papers. He wants to have a full
report ready when the _Saline_ comes up. The three of us will
breakfast together."
"You must permit me to wash the wound on your head first," she
insisted. "The hair is all matted with blood. Please."
"Of course," and I laughed. "Even then I will not be very presentable;
these clothes are frightful; the last week has been a strenuous one."
"What about me!" and she shot a look downward. "I 've only had the one
dress."
"The marvel of it," I interrupted ardently. "You look as though you
had just come from the dressing-table."
"You do not think so!"
"But I do; still, it may be a case where love is blind.
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