"Try again, Vic," said Harry mockingly; but his friend made no reply, for he was staring hard and defiantly at Leslie, who, as he handled his oar, gave him a calmly contemptuous look that galled him to the quick. "Ready, Leslie?" said Harry. "Yes." The oars dipped, Leslie pulling stroke, and the boat shot out from its dangerous position among the rocks, rose at a good-sized swelling wave, topped it, seemed to hang as in a balance for a moment, and then glided down and went forward in response to a few vigorous strokes. "Never mind the tiller, Vic," said Harry; "let it swing. We can manage without that. All right, girls?" There was no reply. "Sulky, eh? Well, I'd a good mind to stop in. Sorry you got so wet, Leslie." Still no reply. "Cheerful party, 'pon my word!" said Harry with a contemptuous laugh. "Hope no one objects to my smoking." He looked hard at Madelaine, but she avoided his gaze, and he uttered a short laugh. "Got a cigar to spare, Vic?" "Yes, clear boy, certainly." "Pass it along then, and the lights. Hold hard a minute, Leslie." The latter ceased rowing as Pradelle handed a cigar and the matches to his friend. "Will you take one, Mr Leslie?" said Pradelle. "Thanks, no," said Leslie quietly, and to the would-be donor's great relief, for he had only two left. Then once more the rowing was resumed, Pradelle striking a match to light a cigar for himself, and then recollecting himself and throwing the match away. "Well, we're enjoying ourselves!" cried Harry after they had proceeded some distance in silence. "I say, Vic, say something!" Pradelle had been cudgelling his brains for the past ten minutes, but the more he tried to find something _a propos_ the more every pleasant subject seemed to recede. In fact it would have been difficult just then for the most accomplished talker to have set all present at their ease, for Harry's folly had moved his sister so that she feared to speak lest she should burst into a hysterical fit of weeping, and Madelaine, as she sat there with her lips compressed, felt imbued with but one desire, which took the form of the following words: "Oh, how I should like to box his ears!" "Getting dry, Leslie?" said Harry after a long silence. "Not very," was the reply. "Ah, well, there's no fear of our catching cold pulling like this." "Not the slightest," said Leslie coldly; then there was another period of silence, during which the water seemed to patter and slap the bows of the boat, while the panorama of rock and foam and glittering cascade, as the crags were bathed by the Atlantic swell, and it fell back broken, seemed perfectly fresh and new as seen from another point of view. At last Harry, after trying two or three times more to start a conversation, said shortly--