Marsh smiled grimly.
"I reckon I'd have known it," said he. "No, sir! It sounds wild,
but it's the only possible guess. That last sea must've lifted us
bodily right over the corner of the pier."
"Well--maybe," assented Orde doubtfully.
"Sure thing," repeated Marsh with conviction.
"Well, you'd better not tell 'em so unless you want to rank in with
Old Man Ananias," ended Orde. "It was a good job. Pretty dusty out
there, wasn't it?"
"Pretty dusty," grinned Marsh.
They turned away together and were at once pounced on by Leopold
Lincoln Bunn, the local reporter, a callow youth aflame with the
chance for a big story of more than local interest.
"Oh, Captain Marsh!" he cried. "How did you get around the pier?
It looked as though the wave had you caught."
Orde glanced at his companion in curiosity.
"On roller skates," replied Marsh.
Leopold tittered nervously.
"Could you tell me how you felt when you were out there in the worst
of it?" he inquired.
"Oh, hell!" said Marsh grumpily, stalking away.
"Don't interview for a cent, does he?" grinned Orde.
"Oh, Mr. Orde! Perhaps you--"
"Don't you think we'd better lend a hand below?" suggested Orde,
pointing to the beach.
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