“Gear?” questioned the Chief Guardian blankly.

“Dunnage?” nodded the skipper.  “Anything you want to bring aboard?” he shouted.

“No, thank you, nothing at present,” answered Harriet.

“Man will fetch it off before he goes away if there is.  Don’t ask me to do any packing.”

“Our young women are perfectly able to help themselves,” replied Mrs. Livingston with dignity.  “I suppose, however, that having only one rowboat you will come ashore for us whenever we wish to go out?” she added.

The captain shook his head.  He was the most ungracious person they ever had known.  But when Harriet said they had better get word to Mr. McCarthy at once, the captain changed his mind quickly.  He said he would come for them whenever they gave him the word.  He told them, further, that they would have to bring their own provisions when they went out for a sail, but that he could show them how to catch some fish if they desired to do so.

“We shall be ready to go out about ten o’clock to-morrow morning,” Mrs. Livingston told him.  “If there is anything you wish us to do, you might call to the young women who occupy the cabin there on the Lonesome Bar.  I am very glad you are going to remain aboard your boat, for we are not equipped for putting up strangers.  But if there is anything you wish in the way of supplies, do not hesitate to send word to me.  We have quite a quantity.  We are obliged to go beyond the highway for our drinking water, and it is a trifle brackish.”

“Hadn’t we better go ashore and give the others a chance to come out?” asked Harriet.

“You and I will remain here.  The others may go,” returned Mrs. Livingston.

Several boatloads of excited girls were put aboard the “Sister Sue.”  The girls were enthusiastic; they chattered and sang and made merry, Captain Billy growing more taciturn and sour as the moments passed.  Finally, Mrs. Livingston said they must put off further visiting of the boat until morning; that night was now upon them.  They bade good night to Captain Billy, and his man put them ashore, Mrs. Livingston leaving the sloop last.

“He is a queer character,” she declared after joining Harriet on the beach later on.  “What do you make of him?”

“I suppose he is like many of his calling, gruff and of few words.  But there is something beyond that which I can’t quite make out.”

“What do you mean?  Do you think that he is untrustworthy?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Livingston.  I do know that I dislike him.  Isn’t that silly in me?” asked the girl laughingly.  “I have no confidence in him.”

“I think you are in error.  Mr. McCarthy would not send us a man who was not trustworthy in every way.  He is supposed to be a skillful skipper, and from my observation I know he will behave himself, so we don’t care what he is beyond that.  Shall you go back to the camp with us, or direct to the cabin?”