Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. It was bare of any furnishings. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. “And this is Mr. Miss Mary to the life, I said, and so she is. “It’s your birthday today, May Day.
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