She shook herself from his grasp. “WILL you let me be, and mind your own business?” she hissed. “No, I won't. I've set out to get you home, and I'll do it if I have to carry you.” “Carry me? You? You DARE!” His answer was to pick her up in his arms. She was no light weight, and she fought and wriggled fiercely, but Seth was big and strong and he held her tight. She did not scream; she was too anxious not to wake either the substitute assistant or Miss Graham, but she made her bearer all the trouble she could. They splashed on for some distance; then Seth set her on her feet, and beneath them was dry ground. “There!” he grumbled, breathlessly. “Now I cal'late you can't miss the rest of it. There's the bungalow right in front of you.” “You--you--” she gasped, chokingly. “Ugh!” grunted her husband, and stalked off into the dark. CHAPTER XI BEHIND THE SAND DUNE “A fog last night, wasn't there?” inquired Brown. Breakfast was over, and Seth was preparing for his day's sleep. “Yes, some consider'ble,” was the gruff answer; then, more sharply, “How'd you know? 'Twas all gone this mornin'.” “Oh, I guessed, that's all.” “Humph! Guessed, hey? You wa'n't up in the night, was you?” “No. Slept like a top all through.” “Humph! . . . Well, that's good; sleep's a good thing. Cal'late I'll turn in and get a little myself.” He moved toward the living room. At the door he paused and asked another question. “How'd you--er--guess there was fog last night?” he inquired. “Oh, that was easy; everything--grass and bushes--were so wet this morning. Those boots of yours, for example,” pointing to the pair the lightkeeper had just taken off, “they look as if you had worn them wading.” His back was toward his superior as he spoke, therefore he did not see the start which the latter gave at this innocent observation, nor the horrified glare at the soaked boots. But he could not help noticing the change in Seth's voice. “Wa--wadin'?” repeated Atkins faintly. “What's that you say?” “I said the boots were as wet as if you had been wading. Why?” “Wha--what made you say a fool thing like that? How could I go wadin' on top of a lighthouse?” “I don't know. . . . There, there!” impatiently, “don't ask any more questions. I didn't say you had been wading, and I didn't suppose you really had. I was only joking. What IS the matter with you?” “Nothin' . . . nothin'. So you was just jokin', hey? Ha, ha! Yes, yes, wadin' up in a lighthouse would be a pretty good joke. I--I didn't see it at first, you know. Ha, ha! I thought you must be off your head. Thought you'd been swimmin' too much or somethin'. So long, I'm goin' to bed.” But now it was the helper's turn to start and stammer. “Wait!” he cried. “What--what did you say about my--er--swimming, was it?” “Oh, nothin', nothin'. I was just jokin', same as you was about the wadin'. Ha, ha!” “Ha, ha!”