I do not know how long I had sat thus, supremely content, when I
was suddenly aroused by a rustling close at hand.
"Hist!"
I looked up sharply, and beheld a head, a head adorned with sundry
feathers, and a face hideously streaked with red and green paint;
but there was no mistaking those golden curls - it was the Imp!
"Hist!" he repeated, bringing out the word with a prolonged hiss,
and then - before I could even guess at his intention - there was
the swift gleam of a knife, a splash of the severed painter, and
caught by the tide the old boat swung out, and was adrift.
The Imp stood gazing on his handiwork with wide eyes, and then as I
leaped to my feet something in my look seemed to frighten him, for
without a word he turned and fled. But all my attention was centred
in the boat, which was drifting slowly into mid-stream with Lisbeth
still fast asleep. And as I watched its sluggish progress, with a
sudden chill I remembered the weir, which foamed and roared only a
short half-mile away. If the boat once got drawn into that - !
Now, I am quite aware that under these circumstances the right and
proper thing for me to have done, would have been to throw aside my
coat, tear off my boots, etc.
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