"Yes--I know," rallied the Outlaw. With the slightest possible accentuation of his pace he started up the beach. Still laughing to himself Jaffrey Bretton bolted for his tent and his khakis. "Hurry up--hurry up--hurry up!" he called across to the tent that sheltered Daphne [142] and the Intruding Lady. "We're going on an adventure! Heaven knows what it is but something is the matter with Martha. . . . Be sure and bring your sweater--we're liable to be out all night!" In an incredibly short space of time he reappeared on the "tote path" hurrying back and forth between the camp and the launch with a great jug of drinking water, a khaki-colored blanket or two, and indeterminate tins of coffee and milk and meat. Very frankly bewildered, but conscientiously determined to be a good sport, the Brown Khaki Lady hurried to help him. Deflected by some sudden adolescent dreaminess, Daphne was the last to emerge from her tent. In her white shoes and stockings, her short white skirt, her simple little white middy-blouse and severe white tam, all her wild, nymphlike beauty of the surf and the beach seemed to have reverted into sheer childish loveliness and austerity. Craving a yellow cactus bloom to stick in her belt, she plunged off first into the nearest thicket. Chasing a bright blue butterfly, she decided just as impulsively to explore the farther [143] palmetto. Then altogether contritely she started out to find her own way back to the waiting launch and her companions. Green and dank and lacelike as the vegetation of an aquarium the great trees traced their leaves and branches against the sky. Close in a little bush a storm-blown scarlet bird twittered and preened in its temporary sacristry. High over all throbbed the ecstasy of the surf. "Oh--_beautifulness_!" gasped Daphne. "In all the world," she thought, "is there any word this moment except just _beautifulness_?" Then quite suddenly from the green maze just beyond her she heard a word that some other person evidently seemed to consider the biggest word of the moment, and that word was "Jaffrey!" _Jaffrey_? . . . Of all things! With a lurch of her heart she darted forward just in time to see her father and the Brown Khaki Lady standing like the picture of the Huguenot lovers, with their hands on each other's shoulders. . . . And there was a laugh on the Brown Khaki Lady's lips! But there were tears in her eyes! [144] "Jaffrey!" cried the Brown Khaki Lady, "since--when have you boasted a daughter?" Stricken with astonishment and resentment at the deception which had been practised upon her, Daphne dashed out into the open only to find that at some shriller cry than hers both her father and the lady were speeding madly toward the beach, where, huddled somewhat conglomerately in the bow of the launch, the Outlaw was holding Lost Man at bay with a distinctly businesslike-looking gun. "What in thunder's the matter?" shouted Jaffrey Bretton.