Page:Stevenson and Quiller-Couch - St Ives .djvu/385

 Fisherman's Bottle as described in M. Galland's ingenious Thousand and One Nights. It was Byfield's balloon—the monster Lunardi—in process of inflation.

"Confound Byfield!" I ejaculated in my haste.

"Who is Byfield?"

"An aeronaut, my dear, of bilious humour; which no doubt accounts for his owning a balloon striped alternately with liver-colour and pale blue, and for his arranging it and a brass band in the very line of my escape. That man dogs me like fate." I broke off sharply. "And after all, why not?" I cried.

The next instant I swung round, as Flora uttered a piteous little cry; and there, behind us, in the outlet of the cutting, stood Major Chevenix and Ronald.

The boy stepped forward, and, ignoring my bow, laid a hand on Flora's arm.

"You will come home at once."

I touched his shoulder. "Surely not," I said, "seeing that the spectacle apparently wants but ten minutes of its climax."

He swung on me in a passion. "For God's sake, St. Yves, don't force a quarrel now, of all moments! Man, haven't you compromised my sister enough?"

"It seems to me that, having set a watch on your sister at the suggestion and with the help of a casual Major of Foot, you might in decency reserve the word 'compromise' for home consumption; and further, that against adversaries so poorly sensitive to her feelings, your sister may be pardoned for putting her resentment into action."

"Major Chevenix is a friend of the family." But the lad blushed as he said it.

"The family?" I echoed. "So? Pray did your aunt invite his help? No, no, my dear Ronald; you cannot answer that. And while you play the game of insult to