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“Don’t you be pert!” said Mrs. Peck, stooping stoutly over the fire. “Get a duster and dust them plates!”

Columbine laughed again with her chin in the air. She found a duster and occupied herself as desired.

Her eyes were upon her work. Plainly she was not looking at Rufus, not apparently thinking of him. But–very suddenly–without changing her attitude, she flashed him a swift glance. He was looking straight at her, and in his blue eyes was an intense, deep glow as of flaming spirit.

Columbine’s look shot away from him with the rapidity of a swallow on the wing. The colour deepened in her cheeks.

“P’raps he’s almost more like a prize bull,” she said meditatively. “Perhaps he’s a Minotaur, Aunt Liza. Do you think he is?”

“My dear, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Mrs. Peck, with a touch of acidity.

Columbine laughed a little. “Do you know, Rufus?” she said.

She did not look at him with the question; there was a quivering dimple in her red cheek that came and went.

“I’d like to know,” said Rufus with simplicity.

“Would you, really?” Columbine polished the last plate vigorously and set it down. “The Minotaur,” she said, in the tone of a schoolmistress delivering a lecture, “was a monster, half-bull, half-man, who lived in a place like the Spear Point Caves, and devoured young men and maidens. You live nearer to the Caves than any one else, don’t you, Rufus?”

Again she ventured a darting glance at him. His look was still upon her, but its fiery quality was less apparent. He met the challenge with his slow, indulgent smile.

“Yes, I live there. I don’t devour anybody. I’m not–that sort of monster.”

Columbine shook her head. “I’m not so sure of that,” she said. “But I dare say you’d tame.”

“P’raps you’d like to do it,” suggested Rufus.

It was his first direct overture, and Columbine, who had angled for it, experienced a thrill of triumph. But she was swift to mask her satisfaction. She tossed her head, and turned: “Oh, I’ve no time to waste that way,” she said. “You must do your own taming, Mr. Minotaur. When you’re quite civilised, p’raps I’ll talk to you.”

She was gone with the words, carrying her plates with her.

“She’s a deal too pert,” observed Mrs. Peck to the saucepan she was stirring. “It’s my belief now that that Mr. Knight’s been putting ideas into her head. She’s getting wild; that’s what she is.”

Knowing Rufus, she expected no response, and for several seconds none came.

Then to her surprise she heard his voice, deep and sonorous as the bell-buoy that was moored by the Spear Point Reef.

“Maybe she’d tame,” he said.

And “Goodness gracious unto me!” said Mrs. Peck, as she lifted her saucepan off the fire.

CHAPTER IV

THE RISING TIDE

A long dazzling pathway of moonlight stretched over the sea, starting from the horizon, ending at the great jutting promontory of the Spear Point. The moon was yet three nights from the full. The tide was rising, but it would not be high for another two hours.

The breakers ran in, one behind the other, foaming over the hidden rocks, splashing wildly against the grim wall of granite that stood sharp-edged to withstand them. It was curved like a scimitar, that rock, and within its curve there slept, when the tide was low, a pool. When the tide rose the waters raged and thundered all around the rock, but when it sank again the still, deep pool remained, unruffled as a mountain tarn and as full of mystery.

Over a tumble of lesser rocks that bounded the pool to shoreward the wary might find a path to the Spear Point Caves; but the path was difficult, and there were few who had ever attempted it. For the quicksand lay like a golden barrier between the outer beach and the rocks that led thither.

It was an awesome spot. Many a splinter of wreckage had been tossed in over the Spear Point as though flung in sport from a giant hand. And when the water was high there came a hollow groaning from the inner caves as though imprisoned spirits languished there.