"Hey, Tunis! Tunis!" bawled the captain. "Take her off'n me! She'll
be afoul my hawser in another second, I do believe."
It was evident that he spoke of the Queen of Sheba, but Tunis could
not see how the mare was intentionally threatening Cap'n Ira's peace
of mind or safety of body. She was, however, "close aboard" Cap'n
Ira as he tobogganed down the sandy way.
"Stern all!" shouted the old man, throwing another startled,
backward glance at the Queen of Sheba. "Drat the derned old critter!
Don't she know nothin' at all? Tunis! Do you see what's goin' to
happen?"
While the young man had been running toward the ridge of sand, the
avalanche bearing Cap'n Ira and the Queen of Sheba on its bosom
swept down the slope of the huge windrow, but not altogether along
its spine. The mass slid over one pitch of the ridge, and suddenly,
following on the heels of Cap'n Ira's final question, the old man
was shot to the beach, several tons of loose sand and the snorting
mare almost on top of him.
In fact, he would have been overwhelmed, and perhaps seriously hurt,
had not Tunis Latham arrived at the spot at just the time Cap'n Ira
did, and suddenly pulled out the old man.
"What are you doing? Trying to run a race with Queenie?" demanded
the captain of the _Seamew_.
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