I wanted to take her up to a house near by, where we bought our milk, but she declined to go until we had saved Pomona.
So I went back to the boat, having carefully wrapped up Euphemia, to endeavor to save the girl.

I found that the boarder had so arranged the gang-plank that it was possible, without a very great exercise of agility, to pass from the shore to the boat.

When I first saw him, on reaching the shelving deck, he was staggering up the stairs with a dining-room chair and a large framed engraving of Raphael's Dante--an ugly picture, but full of true feeling; at least so Euphemia always declared, though I am not quite sure that I know what she meant.
"Where is Pomona ?" I said, endeavoring to stand on the hill-side of the deck.
"I don't know," said he, "but we must get the things out.

The tide's rising and the wind's getting up.

The boat will go over before we know it." "But we must find the girl," I said.