Part 11 (1/2)

Blake's unpleasant pleasantry gave place to a scowl. His jaw thrust out like a bulldog's, and he bent towards Winthrope with a menacing look. For a moment the Englishman faced him, sustained by his anger. But there was a steely light in Blake's eyes that he could not withstand.

Winthrope's defiant stare wavered and fell. He shrank back, the color fast ebbing from his cheeks.

”Ugh!” growled Blake. ”Guess you won't blat any more about cads! You d.a.m.ned hypocrite! Maybe I'm not on to how you've been hanging around Miss Leslie just because she's an heiress. Anything is fair enough for you swells. But let a fellow so much as open his mouth about your exalted set, and it's perfectly dreadful, you know!”

He paused for a reply. Winthrope only drew back a step farther, and eyed him with a furtive, sidelong glance. This brought Blake back to his mocking jeer. ”You'll learn, Pat, me b'y. There's lots of things'll show up different to you before we get through this picnic.

For one thing, I'm boss here--president, congress, and supreme court.

Understand?”

”By what right, may I ask?” murmured Winthrope.

”Right!” answered Blake. ”That hasn't anything to do with the question--it's might. Back in civilized parts, your little crowd has the drop on my big crowd, and runs things to suit themselves. But here we've sort of reverted to primitive society. This happens to be the Club Age, and I'm the Man with the Big Stick. See?”

”I myself sympathize with the lower cla.s.ses, Mr. Blake. Above all, I think it barbarous the way they punish one who is forced by circ.u.mstances to appropriate part of the ill-gotten gains of the rich upstarts. But do you believe, Mr. Blake, that brute strength--”

”You bet! Now shut up. Where're the cocoanuts?”

Winthrope picked up two nuts and handed them over.

”There were only five,” he explained.

”All right. I'm no captain of industry.”

”Ah, true; you said we had reverted to barbarism,” rejoined Winthrope, venturing an attempt at sarcasm.

”Lucky for you!” retorted Blake. ”But where's Miss Leslie all this time? Her clothes must have dried hours ago.”

”They did. We had luncheon together just this side of the point.”

”Oh, you did! Then why shouldn't I go for her?”

”I--I--there was a shaded pool around the point, and she thought a dip in the salt water would refresh her. She went not more than half an hour ago.”

”So that's it. Well, while I eat, you go and call her--and say, you keep this side the point. I'm looking out for Miss Leslie now.”

Winthrope hurried away, clenching his fists and almost weeping with impotent rage. Truly, matters were now very different from what they had been aboard s.h.i.+p. Fortunately he had not gone a dozen steps before Miss Leslie appeared around the corner of the cliff. He was scrambling along over the loose stones of the slope without the slightest consideration for his ankle. The girl, more thoughtful, waved to him to wait for her where he was.

As she approached, Blake's frown gave place to a look that made his face positively pleasant. He had already drained the cocoanuts; now he proceeded to smash the sh.e.l.ls into small bits, that he might eat the meat, and at the same time keep his gaze on the girl. The cliff foot being well shaded by the towering wall of rock, she had taken off his coat, and was carrying it on her arm; so that there was nothing to mar the effect of her dainty openwork waist, with its elbow sleeves and graceful collar and the filmy veil of lace over the shoulders and bosom.

Her skirt had been washed clean by the rain, and she had managed to stretch it into shape before drying.

Refreshed by a nap in the forenoon and by her salt-water dip, she showed more vivacity than at any time that Winthrope could remember during their acquaintance. Her suffering during and since the storm had left its mark in the dark circles beneath her hazel eyes, but this in no wise lessened their brightness; while the elasticity of her step showed that she had quite recovered her well-bred ease and grace of movement.

She bowed and smiled to the two men impartially. ”Good-afternoon, gentlemen.”

”Same to you, Miss Leslie!” responded Blake, staring at her with frank admiration. ”You look fresh as a daisy.”

Genial and sincere as was his tone, the familiarity jarred on her sensitive ear. She colored as she turned from him.

”Is there anything new, Mr. Winthrope?” she asked.