Mr. Shaw was disturbed over Cuthbert, who was not at all bad, only queer and sleepy, and had to be led away to slumber in retirement.  Also, it was an exceptionally low tide and Mr. Shaw had counted on taking advantage of it to work in the cave.  Now Cuthbert was laid up—­

“You and I will have to manage by ourselves, Magnus.”

“Nothing doing—­boat got to be patched up—­go out there without it and get caught!” growled the captain.

“Well, lend a hand, then.  We can be ready with the boat inside an hour.”

The captain hesitated queerly.  His wandering eyes seemed to be searching in every quarter for something they did not find.  At last he mumbled that he thought he felt a touch of the sun, and had decided to lay off for the afternoon and make his way across the island.  He said he wanted to shoot water-fowl and that they had all been frightened away from the cove, but that with the glass he had seen them from Lookout thickly about the other bay.

“Very well,” said the Scotchman coldly.  “I suppose you must suit yourself.  I can get the boat in shape without help, I dare say.”  I saw him presently looking in an annoyed and puzzled fashion after the vanishing figure of the sailor.

Mr. Tubbs and the umbrellas soon disappeared into the woods.  I believe the search for Bill Halliwell’s tombstone was no longer very actively pursued, and that the trio spent their time ensconced in a snug little nook with hammocks and cushions, where Mr. Tubbs beguiled the time with reading aloud—­Aunt Jane and Violet both being provided with literature—­and relating anecdotes of his rise to greatness in the financial centers of the country.  I more than suspected Mr. Tubbs of feeling that such a bird in the hand as Aunt Jane was worth many doubloons in the bush.  But in spite of uneasiness about the future, for the present I rested secure in the certainty that they could not elope from the island, and that there was no one on it with authority to metamorphose Aunt Jane into Mrs. Hamilton H. Tubbs.

The waters of the cove had receded until a fringe of rocks under the high land of the point, usually covered, had been left bare.  I had watched the emergence of their black jagged surfaces for some time before it occurred to me that they offered a means of access to the cave.  The cave—­place of fascination and mystery!  Here was the opportunity of all others to explore it, unhampered by any one, just Crusoe and I alone, in the fashion that left me freest to indulge my dreams.

I waited until the Scotchman’s back was safely turned, because if he saw me setting forth on this excursion he was quite certain to command me to return, and I had no intention of submitting to his dictatorial ways and yet was not sure how I was successfully to defy him.  I believed him capable of haling me lack by force, while tears or even swoons left him unmoved.  Of course he would take the absurd ground that the cave was dangerous, in the face of the glaring fact that a girl who had come to this island solely to protect Aunt Jane ought certainly to be able to protect herself.  Besides, what right had he to care if I was drowned, anyhow?