. .
I snum if . . . Sho!"
"Well, what is it?" demanded both officers, practically in concert.
Jed did not reply. Instead he turned his head, put both hands to
his mouth and shouted "Babbie!" through them at the top of his
lungs. The third shout brought a faint, "Yes, Uncle Jed, I'm
coming."
"What are you calling her for?" asked Lieutenant Rayburn,
forgetting the presence of his superior officer in his anxious
impatience. Jed did not answer. He was kneeling beside his
jacket, which he had thrown upon the sand when he landed, and was
fumbling in the pockets. "Dear me! dear me!" he was muttering.
"I'm sartin they must be here. I KNOW I put 'em here because . . .
OW!"
He was kneeling and holding the coat with one hand while he fumbled
in the pockets with the other. Unconsciously he had leaned
backward until he sat upon his heels. Now, with an odd expression
of mingled pain and relief, he reached into the hip pocket of his
trousers and produced a pair of spectacles. He smiled his slow,
fleeting smile.
"There!" he observed, "I found 'em my way--backwards. Anybody else
would have found 'em by looking for 'em; I lost 'em lookin' for 'em
and found 'em by sittin' on 'em. . . . Oh, here you are, Babbie!
Sakes alive, you're sort of dampish."
She was all of that. She had come running in answer to his call
and had the shingle boat hugged close to her.
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