"I have you--now! I have you at last, and I'll never let you go again!"
Undoubtedly she furnished the inspiration which kindled a sudden light in his eyes. "Why not?" he urged against the one objection that occurred in his thought. "It's an awful smash at the conventions, but--it's the only way. He locked me in to drown--and do you suppose that he'd hesitate if he were here now in my shoes? I guess not. And if he would, I won't. By the Lord, I'll do it!"
He rose soon after reaching his conclusion. "You must be very tired, so I'll go now and leave you to dry your things. You know, we start early in the morning."
"Start early?" She opened her sleepy eyes.
"Listen!" He took her gently by both shoulders. "We have been held apart so far by all sorts of accidents and misunderstandings. You know how closely we came to utter shipwreck?" Her shiver answering, he went on, "Now, will you trust--leave all to me?"
She had been no woman if she had not divined the restraint behind his quiet during the last warm hour, and, rising suddenly upon small bare toes, she paid him for his consideration. "I will do anything you say."
Breaking through the stream of ocean vapors, the morning sun showed the jungle raising a languid head above the ruins of the flood. Long rents in its green mantle, bare patches of yellow mud, dark bruises where acres of debris had been piled in twisted masses, testified to the force of the wave. But, overlooking the wreckage from the smelter, Seyd took notice principally of a fact that suited his purpose--the river had been swept clean of driftwood. Not since the beginning of the rains had it shown such open stretches.
"Good!" he muttered. "The sooner we get away the better. I'll call her at once."
When, however, he knocked at the office door Francesca answered "Come!" When he entered she smiled at his surprise. "You said that we were to start early. Here I am, dressed and dried."
"Not before breakfast," he laughed. "It is ready. I'll have it brought right in."
All through the meal her eyes questioned, but, denying her curiosity, he talked of anything and everything but that which filled her mind. Even when, clothed in his waterproof, she took her seat opposite him in the stern of the dugout he denied their eloquent appeal. While sending the boat with vigorous strokes flying downstream he drew her attention to this and that phase of devastation and commented on the beauty of the morning, but not a word as to his purpose. It was cruel, and her eyes said so. But, remorseless, he held on till, about midway of the morning, they sighted San Nicolas. All the way down he had hugged the Santa Gertrudis side, and she received the first inkling when he replied to her question if it were not time to pull across.
