But the professor insisted that it was marvellous, and he said that I might render him invaluable service if I would consent to come and camp at Pine Inlet for a few weeks.
I looked at his daughter, but she turned her back--not exactly in disdain either. Her back was beautifully moulded. Her gown fitted also.
"Camp out here?" I repeated, pretending to be unpleasantly surprised.
"I do not think he would care to," said Miss Holroyd without turning.
"Above all things," said I, in a clear, pleasant voice, "I like to camp out."
"It is not exactly camping," said the professor. "Come, you shall see our conservatory. Daisy, come, dear! you must put on a heavier frock; it is getting toward sundown."
At that moment, over a near dune, two horses' heads appeared, followed by two human heads, then a wagon, then a yellow dog.
"You are the very man I want," he muttered; "the very man--the very man."
I looked at Daisy Holroyd. She returned my glance with a defiant little smile.
"Waal," said Captain McPeek, driving up, "here we be! Git out, Frisby."
Frisby, fat, nervous, and sentimental, hopped out of the cart.
"Come!" said the professor, impatiently moving across the dunes. I walked with Daisy Holroyd. McPeek and Frisby followed. The yellow dog walked by himself.
The sun was dipping into the sea as we trudged across the meadows toward a high dome-shaped dune covered with cedars and thickets of sweet bay. I saw no sign of habitation among the sand hills. Far as the eye could reach, nothing broke the gray line of sea and sky save the squat dunes crowned with stunted cedars.
Then, as we rounded the base of the dune, we almost walked into the door of a house. My amazement amused Miss Holroyd, and I noticed also a touch of malice in her pretty eyes. But she said nothing, following her father into the house, with the slightest possible gesture to me. Was it invitation, or was it menace?
The house was merely a light wooden frame, covered with some waterproof stuff that looked like a mixture of rubber and tar. Over this--in fact, over the whole roof--was pitched an awning of heavy sail-cloth. I noticed that the house was anchored to the sand by chains, already rusted red. But this one-storied house was not the only building nestling in the south shelter of the big dune. A hundred feet away stood another structure--long, low, also built of wood. It had rows on rows of round portholes on every side. The ports were fitted with heavy glass, hinged to swing open if necessary. A single big double door occupied the front.