I looked up at Dr. Beauregard sharply; and so, it seemed to me, did Mr. Rogers, who had fallen alongside.

“That is to say,” continued the Doctor, quietly, without regarding either of us, “the only male resident.”

“All the same I don’t like it,” persisted the Captain, and shook his head, at the same time lifting his eyes towards Miss Belcher; “and it’s clear against my rule.”

“Stuff and nonsense!” said Miss Belcher.  “We ought to be grateful to Dr. Beauregard for taking this creature Glass off our hands.  I was thinking a moment ago that for a thousand pounds I’d rather he was anywhere than on board our ship.  The least we can do is to bear a hand with him; and if we don’t like the house we can come away.”

“And before nightfall, if you insist,” added Dr. Beauregard, genially.  “But the afternoon is young, and between now and nightfall you may all have made your fortunes.  Who knows?”

Captain Branscome yielded, after a look at Plinny, who backed up Miss Belcher, declaring herself ardent for new adventures.  I began to see that the Captain was wax in the hands of these two, and it puzzled me, who had some experience of him both in school and on shipboard.

Instead, then, of heading for the ship, we rowed past her and up the creek—­Mr. Rogers following in his dinghy—­and disembarked at the landing-place under the green knoll.  While Dr. Beauregard and Mr. Goodfellow lifted out Aaron Glass, and while the Captain explained to Mr. Rogers where and how we came by such a passenger, I stared about me, wondering where the Doctor’s house might be and where the approach to it.  For I remembered the narrow gorge leading up to the waterfalls and the thick, precipitous woods on either hand; and how, such a party as ours, including two ladies and a sick man, could hope to penetrate those woods or climb those waterfalls was a puzzle.

In ten minutes Mr. Goodfellow had patched up a fairly serviceable litter with the boat’s sail and a couple of paddles.  Dr. Beauregard bestowed the patient in it carefully enough, and when all was ready, led the way.  The two carriers, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Goodfellow, came next with the litter between them, and at a nod from the former I fell in beside him.  The Captain and the two ladies brought up the rear.

“Harry,” whispered Mr. Rogers, as we wound our way round the knoll, “is this really the man who—­”

“This is Aaron Glass,” I said.

He stared down—­for he carried the hinder end of the litter—­upon the villainous, unconscious face.

“He looks a pretty bad one,” said Mr. Rogers, after a pause.

“You should have seen him on the beach,” said I.

“I’ve seen something myself,” said he.  “Closer, boy—­there was a woman came down to the shore just now, waving to the ship and crying.  At first I took her for a child.  She was dressed all in white—­white muslin and ribbons, you know—­the sort of rig you see at a children’s party; but when I rowed over close to her—­”