A
man of Tudor's type gets on my nerves. One demands more repose from a
man."
Joan felt that she did not quite agree with his judgment; and, somehow,
Sheldon caught her feeling and was disturbed. He remembered noting how
her eyes had brightened as she talked with the newcomer--confound it all,
was he getting jealous? he asked himself. Why shouldn't her eyes
brighten? What concern was it of his?
A second boat had been lowered, and the outfit of the shore party was
landed rapidly. A dozen of the crew put the knocked-down boats together
on the beach. There were five of these craft--lean and narrow, with
flaring sides, and remarkably long. Each was equipped with three paddles
and several iron-shod poles.
"You chaps certainly seem to know river-work," Sheldon told one of the
carpenters.
The man spat a mouthful of tobacco-juice into the white sand, and
answered,--
"We use 'em in Alaska. They're modelled after the Yukon poling-boats,
and you can bet your life they're crackerjacks. This creek'll be a snap
alongside some of them Northern streams. Five hundred pounds in one of
them boats, an' two men can snake it along in a way that'd surprise you."
At sunset the _Martha_ broke out her anchor and got under way, dipping
her flag and saluting with a bomb gun.
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