CHAPTER VII
The Cloak of Xolotl
“‘TIS THE little lady of the fire moths.” Boots knelt up straight and beamed upon his vis-a-vis like one who welcomes an old acquaintance. Impelled by a deft and vigorous paddle, the canoe had swiftly left the landing float, shot across what seemed a wide band of blinding fire, and now, some hundred yards from shore, Boots found the radiance much less intolerable. In fact, he could see very well, and his first glance was not for the islands nor the island craft, but toward the girl who had apparently taken him under authoritative protection.
“If you jump about so, we shall be upset,” she admonished him.
“I’ll not move a finger more,” cried Boots, “for I can think of nothing more misfortunate than to end an acquaintance before it is fairly begu
