He observed then that the bits
of paper were soiled and worn as though they had been handled a
great deal. He made no effort to restrain the exclamation that
followed this discovery.
"You drew these pictures for Bram," he scanning them more
carefully. "That settles one thing. Bram doesn't know much more
about you than, I do. Ships, and dogs, and men--and fighting--a
lot of fighting--and--"
His eyes stopped at one of the pictures and his heart gave a
sudden excited thump. He picked up the bit of paper which had
evidently been part of a small sack. Slowly he turned to the girl
and met her eyes. She was trembling in her eagerness for him to
understand.
"That is YOU," he said, tapping the central figure in the sketch,
and nodding at her. "You--with your hair down, and fighting a
bunch of men who look as though they were about to beat your
brains out with clubs! Now--what in God's name does it mean? And
here's a ship up in the corner. That evidently came first. You
landed from that ship, didn't you? From the ship--the ship--the
ship--"
"Skunnert!" she cried softly, touching the ship with her finger.
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