As they appeared nearer and
their figures took more natural proportions, it could be seen that
each carried a gun; that one was a young girl, although dressed so
like her companion in shaggy pea-jacket and sou'wester as to be
scarcely distinguished from him above the short skirt that came
halfway down her high india-rubber fishing-boots. By the time they
had reached firmer ground, and turned to look back at the sunset,
it could be also seen that the likeness between their faces was
remarkable. Both, had crisp, black, tightly curling hair; both had
dark eyes and heavy eyebrows; both had quick vivid complexions,
slightly heightened by the sea and wind. But more striking than
their similarity of coloring was the likeness of expression and
bearing. Both wore the same air of picturesque energy; both bore
themselves with a like graceful effrontery and self-possession.
The young man continued his way. The young girl lingered for a
moment looking seaward, with her small brown hand lifted to shade
her eyes,--a precaution which her heavy eyebrows and long lashes
seemed to render utterly gratuitous.
"Come along, Mag. What are ye waitin' for?" said the young man
impatiently.
"Nothin'. Lookin' at that boat from the Fort." Her clear eyes
were watching a small skiff, invisible to less keen-sighted
observers, aground upon a flat near the mouth of the channel.
"Them chaps will have a high ole time gunnin' thar, stuck in the
mud, and the tide goin' out like sixty!"
"Never you mind the sodgers," returned her companion, aggressively,
"they kin take care o' their own precious skins, or Uncle Sam will
do it for 'em, I reckon.
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