" asked Bess. "We ought not to stay
here."

"No, I suppose not," admitted Cora, slowly. "It might be a good thing,
though, just to stop and speak to Denny. Then we'd know, soon enough,
what had happened. Suppose we do that?"

The others agreed. They had stepped away from the window for a moment,
but now Cora walked toward it again. Denny was still holding the oar,
but he must have gotten up, for the window was now partly open, and it
had not been so at first.

Denny was talking to himself. He was indulging in a soliloquy,
apparently addressing himself to the oar.

"If you could only talk," he said, "if you could only talk, what a
tale you could tell. Yes, indeed!" and he sighed. "A tale of the sea
and the land--of calm and storms."

"He's very poetical; isn't he?" whispered Bess.

"Hush!" cautioned Cora. "Listen to what he says."

Denny was evidently in a talking mood, and was living the past over
again.

"If only Grandfather Lewis were here, what tales he could tell, too,"
Denny went on. "And there's one tale I'd be glad to listen to. He
could tell where the land papers were. If only I could find 'em
everything would be all right, and the factory men--ha! we could laugh
in our sleeves at 'em. Laugh in our sleeves! Ha! Ha! No, we could
laugh in their faces, so we could; couldn't we?"

He held up the oar, speaking to it as one might to a favorite dog.

Denny swung it above his head, as though testing its weight as a club.

"'Twas so he swung it the night of the storm--the night he saved my
life!" murmured Denny. "My, what a night that was! What a night!"

He seemed lost in recollection for a moment, and then resumed his
self-communion.

"'Twas so he held it--held it out to me in the smother of foam and
spray when I was goin' under. And what was it he said?

"'Grab holt!' says he. 'Grab holt and I'll pull you in. Don't be
afraid, the oar is strong!' And so it is--a grand, strong oar. As
strong as old Len Lewis himself. What a grand old man he was! A fine
old man!

"But he's gone, and we all have to go. I'll have to go with the rest,
I suppose. But before I do go I wish I could find them land papers.
What in the world did Grandfather Lewis do with 'em anyhow?

"They must be around here. He ought to have kept 'em in the bank, or
in a strong box; but he was always like that. Hidin' his things away
in curious places. He even did it with his tobaccy. A strange man!

"But I'll wager the papers aren't far f