me up the bank.

"What are you going to do?" I cried, shaking myself loose.

"We've got to get on the Maria and run for it," he panted. "There is no
time to be lost."

He had reached the top of the bank and was running towards the group at
the tents. And he actually infused me with some of his red-hot
enthusiasm, for I hastened after him.

"But you can't begin to get the Maria out before they will be in here,"
I shouted.

He stopped short, gazed at the approaching boat, and then at me.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, of course," said I, "they will be here in ten minutes."

The Celebrity stood in the midst of the excited Four. His hair was
parted precisely, and he had induced a monocle to remain in his eye long
enough to examine the Scimitar, his nose at the critical elevation. This
unruffled exterior made a deep impression on the Four. Was the Celebrity
not undergoing the crucial test of a true sport? He was an example alike
to criminals and philosophers.

Mr. Cooke hurried into the group, which divided respectfully for him, and
grasped the Celebrity by the hand.