IN WHICH DAVE FINDS A FRIEND
was n't doing anything else just then, and I kind of guessed you might prefer it that way."
"I'm ever so grateful," the boy said. "Where are the others?"
"Gone up to the farm," the man replied, waving his arm airily in the direction of some trees. "You had better come along too. You ought to have something hot to drink."
"Was MacTavish saved?" Dave asked.
"If you mean a Scottish gentleman with a fiery light in his eyes, an accent you can cut with a knife, and an infinite flow of language on the subject of some mysterious engines, yes."
"I guess that's MacTavish," Dave said, unable to resist a smile. "I'm glad the Kingfisher did n't drown him. My name is Hallard—David Hallard, of Brooklyn, New York."
"Glad to know you. I am pleased you called, though the method you adopted of coming ashore has its disadvantages. My name is Bruce Tempest."
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