It was two mornings later, very early on Midsummer Day, that Rufus the Red, looking like a Viking in the crystal atmosphere of sky and sea, rowed the stranger with great, swinging strokes through the fishing fleet right out into the burning splendour of the sun.  Knight had entered the boat in the belief that he was going to see something of the raising of the nets.  But it became apparent very soon that Rufus had other plans for his entertainment, for he passed his father by with no more than a jerk of the head, which Adam evidently interpreted as a sign of farewell rather than of greeting, and rowed on without a pause.

Knight, with his sketch-book beside him, sat in the stern.  He had never taken much interest in Rufus before; but now, seated facing him, with the giant muscles and grim, unresponsive countenance of the man perpetually before his eyes, the selecting genius in him awoke and began to appraise.

Rufus wore a grey flannel shirt, open at the neck, displaying a broad red chest, immensely powerful, with a bull-like strength that every swing of the oars brought into prominence.  He had not the appearance of exerting himself unduly, albeit he was pulling in choppy water against the tide.

His blue eyes gazed ever straight at the shore he was leaving.  He seemed so withdrawn into himself as to be oblivious of the fact that he was not alone.  Knight watched him, wondering if any thoughts were stirring in the slow brain behind that massive forehead.  Columbine had declared that the man was an oaf, and he felt inclined to agree with her.  And yet there was something in the intensity of the fellow’s eyes that held his attention, the possibility of the actual existence of an unknown element that did not fit into that conception of him.  They were not the eyes of a mere animal.  There was no vagueness in their utter stillness.  Rather had they the look of a man who waits.

Curiosity began to stir within him.  He wondered if by judicious probing he could penetrate the wall of aloofness with which his companion seemed to be surrounded.  It would be interesting to know if the fellow really possessed any individuality.

Airily he broke the silence.  “Are you going to take me straight into the temple of the sun?  I thought I was out to see the fishing.”

The remote blue eyes came back as it were out of the far distance and found him.  There came to Knight an odd, wholly unwonted, sensation of smallness.  He felt curiously like a pigmy disturbing the meditations of a giant.

Rufus looked at him for several seconds of uninterrupted rowing before, in his deep, resounding voice, he spoke.  “They won’t be taking up the nets for a goodish while yet.  We shall be back in time.”

“The idea is to give me a run for my money first, eh?” inquired Knight pleasantly.

He had not anticipated the sudden fall of the red brows that greeted his words.  He felt as if he had inadvertently trodden upon a match.