CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. "Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. "Your audacity passes belief," cried the latter, as soon as his surprise would allow him utterance. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. "What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandybottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean.
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