Part 24 (1/2)

”Well, _I_ do!” I fairly barked, and seizing the megaphone again, I set it to my lips and roared, ”My fiancee!”

”Good gracious!” exclaimed Miss Barrison, in consternation, ”I thought you were going to tell the truth!”

”Don't do that or you'll upset us,” I snapped--”I'm telling the truth; I've engaged myself to you; I did it mentally before I bellowed.”

”But--”

”You know as well as I do what engagements mean,” I said, picking up the oars and digging them deep in the blue water.

She a.s.sented uncertainly.

A few minutes more of vigorous rowing brought us to a muddy landing under a cl.u.s.ter of tall palmettos, where a gasoline launch lay.

Professor Farrago came down to the sh.o.r.e as I landed, and I walked ahead to meet him. He was the maddest man I ever saw. But I was his match, for I was desperate.

”What the devil--” he began, under his breath.

”Nonsense!” I said, deliberately. ”An engaged woman is practically married already, because marriages are made in heaven.”

”Good Lord!” he gasped, ”are you mad, Gilland? I sent for a stenographer--”

”Miss Barrison is a stenographer,” I said, calmly; and before he could recover I had presented him, and left them face to face, was.h.i.+ng my hands of the whole affair.

Unloading the boat and carrying the luggage up under the palms, I heard her saying:

”No, I am not in the least afraid of snakes, and I am quite ready to begin my duties.”

And he: ”Mr. Gilland is a young man who--er--lacks practical experience.”

And she: ”Mr. Gilland has been most thoughtful for my comfort. The journey has been perfectly heavenly.”

And he, clumsily: ”Ahem!--the--er--celestial aspect of your journey has--er--doubtless been colored by--er--the prospect of your--er--approaching nuptials--”

She, hastily: ”Oh, I do not think so, professor.”

”Idiot!” I muttered, dragging the dog to the sh.o.r.e, where his yelps brought the professor hurrying.

”Is _that_ the dog?” he inquired, adjusting his spectacles.

”That's the dog,” I said. ”He's full of points, you see?”

”Oh,” mused the professor; ”I thought he was full of--” He hesitated, inspecting the animal, who, nose to the ground, stood investigating a smell of some sort.

”See,” I said, with enthusiasm, ”he's found a scent; he's trailing it already! Now he's rolling on it!”

”He's rolling on one of our concentrated food lozenges,” said the professor, dryly. ”Tie him up, Mr. Gilland, and ask Mrs. Gilland to come up to camp. Your room is ready.”

”Rooms,” I corrected; ”she isn't Mrs. Gilland yet,” I added, with a forced smile.

”But you're practically married,” observed the professor, ”as you pointed out to me. And if she's practically Mrs. Gilland, why not say so?”

”Don't, all the same,” I snarled.