In a brighter flash, her black sail fluttered, unmistakable.
Rudolph reached for his gun, but waited silently.

He would not call out.
Some chance fisherman, it might be, or any small craft holding the same course along the coast.

Still, he did not like the hurry of the sweeps, which presently groaned louder and threw up nebulous fire.

The stranger's bow became an arrowhead of running gold.
And here was Flounce, ready to misbehave once more.

Before he could catch her, the small white body of the terrier whipped by him, and past the steersman.