But at the first grapple the man threw off the boy and lurched toward Neil. "The rocks, boy! The rocks! Turn back!"

And as Neil was thrusting with all his force against the tiller, to make the critical turn, the bewildered man put out his heavy hand and opposed him. In vain both boys shouted and struggled. The Hera kept exactly on her course, and crashed into the great rock.

The wreckage was instant and complete. The stays snapped, the mass toppled, the sail seemed to pour down and engulf them all. Pelham, putting up his arm to guard his head, felt a staggering blow on his elbow just as the wet and heavy canvas enveloped him; he was beaten to his knees, and knew that Bert was sprawling beneath him. He tried to raise his arm again and throw off the sail, and the sharp pain made him almost faint. Then he heard Neil's cry:

"Her bow 's stove in! We 're sinking! Jump for the Hen-quick!"

Regardless of his pain, the boy wriggled out from under the canvas. Water was pouring over the stern; the Hera was slipping backward from the rock. Then for a moment she righted and floated free. Next, and quicker than he would have believed possible, the boat began to settle by the head, and a little wave washed right out through the cabin and into the cockpit. At the sight of it, both boys began to grope for Jones, still under the sail. By a wrist and his collar they dragged him out. scarcely able to help himself.

The man was

"We must get him to the rock!" How it was done Pelham never could clearly remember. The distance to the Hen was widening; they could only jump and scramble and flounder. Pelham's left arm was quite useless. Once more they were soused to the chin in water, but they managed to climb upon the wet and slippery dome. And there, clinging to the rusty spindle, their feet and knees in the water, the three miserably sat.

Neil turned to Pelham. "Are you all right?" "My arm is broken, I think. That's why I could n't help you better."

They looked at Bert, who sat between them. To each of the boys it was plain that the renewed wetting had brought him to himself. But not a word did he say to the boys, no counsel did he offer, no encouragement did he give.

"Well, Neil," cried Pelham, cheerily, calling across the wind, "it looks as if we were up against it. How are we to get ashore?"

Neil shook his head. Get ashore? It was im

help, he very much doubted whether, in the dusk and the rain, any one had seen them from the shore. And the tide was higher, and the sea angrier, every minute. The real question was, how long could the three hold out? Bert's measure of strength he could judge by the weight with which he leaned against him. And Pelham, to Neil's eye, looked pretty shaky. A wave slapped heavily against him and he winced, trying to protect his arm.

"I must get in front of you," said Neil, with decision. He scrambled across Bert, and placed himself before Pelham, to take the blow of the next wave. The two thus sat on a ridge of rock as on a saddle, with Neil's legs locked around the rod of the spindle. "Move closer, Pelham," directed Neil, “and grip me with your knees." Then Neil crooked his arm in Bert's, and again seized the spindle-rod. Thus aiding both his companions, Neil felt a moment's satisfaction.

Every moment the waves, striking against the rock, threw their spray over the three. The rain poured down, the wind drove. And the tide was rising. It passed their knees, neared their hips. The larger waves swept heavily across the rock, lifting the three unfortunates at each sweep. Grimly they stood it for a long time in silence, . until at last Pelham bravely said:

"Neil, you'd better swim for it."

Of course Neil had thought of the chances of his reaching shore alone and bringing help. He knew that he could do it. But how long would either Pelham or Bert last while clinging to the spindle without him? How far could either swim when washed off the rock? Neil merely said:

"I guess we can stick it out till the tide falls." He knew it would be more than four hours before the falling of the tide could bring them any relief.

Bert, if he had an unselfish thought for the two boys, said nothing. The three remained silent. After a while the rain ceased, rifts showed in the clouds, a gleam of moonlight came. But for all that, the wind blew as hard as ever, and the waves steadily mounted higher. Pelham said: "Even in the moonlight no one can see us from shore. If we could only make a light!"

He laughed at his own wish; nothing seemed more impossible. But after a moment's silence Neil asked, "Pelham, did you put that flash-light back on the shelf in the cabin?"

For a moment Pelham could not collect his thoughts. What flash-light? What cabin? Then he remembered. "Yes. I crawled way in with the aeroplane and left it in safety. On my way out I put the light in the box." For the shelf was

a box, to keep articles placed in it from rolling. off.

"Then," asked Neil, "can you two stay here without me for a few minutes? I'm going down to get that light."

"You can't!" cried Pelham.

And truly it seemed impossible in the dark, the pounding waves, the depth of the water.

But Neil was ready with his answer: "It can be done. There is the mast in plain view. I can go down it, grope my way to the cabin, put my arm in, and find the box."

Pelham protested. "But the sail will be in the way, and all that tangle of rigging!"

Neil's reply was unanswerable: "If we don't find some means to signal, we shall simply sit here till we fall from exhaustion. Can you stay for a while without me?"

"I can," said Pelham. And Bert, appealed to likewise, said that he could.

Neil unhooked his arm from Bert's, and Pelham released the clasp of his knees. Slowly and stiffly Neil took position for a dive. His hand still on the spindle, his feet only too unsteadily braced against the rock, he watched till the water fell away. Then with a clumsy, but effective, plunge he hurled himself downward, aiming directly below the top of the mast, which showed some twelve feet away. The wave rose again, and Neil was lost to sight.

Pelham forgot that it was hard to keep his place; he did not notice that the waves, buffeting his unprotected arm, wrenched it severely. All he knew was that down in the water Neil was groping in the wreckage, every instant in danger of being tangled in the ropes or caught beneath the sail. In imagination he was there, too, thrusting aside the obstacles, holding back the mass of tackle which was so ready to trap the venturesome boy. He had no thought of what might happen to himself if Neil failed to return; he only knew that the time grew longer and longer until it seemed impossible that any one could escape. In despair he looked at Bert, only to see him gazing absorbed down into the water. Another great wave rose; the two instinctively clutched the spindle tighter; but Pelham felt that at the same time he was engulfed by hopelessness. Then something came tumbling against his feet, a hand clutched his leg, was shifted higher to his belt, and as the wave receded, there was the dripping Neil, gasping for breath.

"Lucky thing!" he panted. "Meant to have come up the mast, but missed it, and the wave rolled me here. And I've got it. See!"

In his hand he held the little nickel flash-light, while without loss of time he shifted his grip to

the spindle and braced himself securely. Lifting the lamp, he flashed it toward the shore, waved it up and down, in a circle, then across; cut off the light, put it on, and then with the dots and dashes of the signaling code began to spell a message. "I was so afraid the battery would have run out," he cried, with relief. "It was pretty old, and the water of course has been weakening it."

He spelled the message successfully through, spelled it again, then tried a longer one; and still, after minutes had passed, the valiant little lamp sent out its light with undiminished bright

ness.

"Perhaps no one will be able to read it," said Pelham.

"Even then," replied Neil, "the coming and going of the light ought to have a meaning for any one that sees it. And by this time perhaps it's been seen. I've surely been five minutes at it."

"The light is fading!" said Pelham, suddenly. Neil began to signal faster. But when once the current had begun to fail, it went rapidly. In less than another minute it had gone almost completely; and when Neil lowered the lamp and looked at the bulb he saw only a faint red glow in its tiny wire.

Unconquerably hopeful, he said, "If I could dry it out and let it rest-"

For the first time Jones opened his lips. He laughed harshly. "Dry it here? And in an hour. you could get a few more flashes. Meanwhile, this rusty iron will break. It's bending already!"

CHAPTER X

WHAT GIRLS CAN DO

MR. WINSLOW and Howard, baffled by Jones's flight, rowed to the float about the time that Lois arrived there in the little fishing-boat. The girl was very much cast down. "Neil made me leave him," she said. "Now Jones is carrying him off. I ought not to have come away."

"You did perfectly right!" declared Mr. Winslow. "Tell me what Neil was doing on board when you left."

They talked the matter over as they returned to the house, and made a pretty good guess as to Neil's reason for remaining on the Venture. With the glasses they watched the Venture and the pursuing Hera, till they were hidden from sight by the wooded point. What Jones would do on reaching the bay could not be seen. Mr. Winslow decided how he must act.

"Pelham is foolhardy if he follows long," he said. "I think we can depend on him to turn back before the storm. As for Jones, he 'll surely

make for some point across the bay. I'm going around in the car and cut him off."

"I'll go too," offered Howard.

His father shook his head. "You must stay here. I wish we had a telephone here on the hill; it would be of use now. It was foolish of us city folks to object to the looks of poles and wires, and I'll never spend another summer here without one. Howard, help me put up the top of the car."

It was not many minutes before Mr. Winslow, under the shelter of the motor-top and windshield and wearing his waterproof, set off in the face of the approaching storm. "I shall stop at the post-office," he said, "and will telephone across the bay to have people watching for the Venture. You, Howard, must go down to the point at once, and see if you can make out for what point Jones is heading. Then go to the post-office and wait till I call up." So he was off, and Howard went hurrying to the point past which Jones was now fleeing.

While Mrs. Winslow was with Lois in the house, helping her change her clothes and soothing her with repeated declarations that she could have done no more for Neil, Ruth and Harriet remained watching on the lawn.

"If only there were a good swift motor-boat in the harbor!" sighed Ruth. "All we have here are merely motor-cats, and the Venture is the fastest of them all."

Her eyes

Harriet could make no response. were on the distant water. The Venture had disappeared behind the trees of the wooded point, but for a little while longer she could see the Hera, in which her brother was gallantly risking the storm in his attempt to be of use to Neil.

Then he too was gone from sight behind the point!

Harriet winked back her tears. Pelham was not foolhardy; he was brave, and she would be worthy of him.

A miserable time of waiting followed. The slow approach of the storm brought early dusk, turning almost to darkness when the storm broke. The girls went to the house, Lois and Mrs. Winslow came downstairs, and all of them watched at the windows. The servants offered supper, and Mrs. Winslow made the girls eat a little, but it was with difficulty. Then footsteps were heard on the piazza, and Howard, in his oilskins, came in. He was streaming with water, but he brought no news.

"Both boats were heading for Marlow, that 's all I can say," he explained. "Pelham was scarcely beyond the point; I can't think he 'd go much farther. But the rain came down and

blotted them out, and so I came back." He gathered a handful of cookies from the table. “Too bad, Harriet. I'm awful sorry, Lois. Now I'm off for the village." And munching, he departed. "Boys are like that," said Mrs. Winslow. "But he really is sorry. And he 'd work all night to do anything at all for Pelham or Neil."

The dreary waiting recommenced. For an hour the rain drove steadily; then it slowly ceased, and gleams of moonlight showed through the breaking clouds. But the water was dark now, and neither from the harbor nor from the road came any one with news. The four watchers wondered, each to herself, if the Hera had weathered the storm; there was more danger to her than to the Venture. But no one could tell.

The rain had ceased for some time, and the fitful moon was shining more frequently, when Lois suddenly took her sweater from the hall settle. "I must go out," she said. “I can't bear it in the house another minute!" She opened the door to the piazza, then turned and looked at the others appealingly.

Harriet was already donning her sweater; Ruth was looking at her mother for permission. "Go, dear," said Mrs. Winslow. "I will be just inside here, and will let you know when Howard comes. Call me if you see or hear anything." And she opened the window in order the better to hear.

On the wide strip of gravel that bordered the upper edge of the lawn the three girls walked up and down. From time to time they scanned the water; then they listened for footsteps or wheels on the road. Nothing was heard on the land side; from the water came the fierce gusts of the steadily strengthening wind. Clouds constantly swept over the moon; the harbor showed dim bulks of yachts, the faint white tops of leaping waves, and a murky distance into which everything faded. Once the three girls, as by one impulse, stopped at the turn and gazed out on the water.

Harriet choked, then she coughed to cover it, and once more she winked back her tears. Girls sometimes had to wait and suffer these things. Oh, would nobody bring them news?

She turned away, drawing Ruth with her; but Lois stopped them. "What is that light on the water?"

They looked. A tiny spot of light, well out beyond the yachts, circled and danced, disappeared and came again, winked at longer and shorter intervals.

"It's a signal!" cried Lois. For a full minute they watched together. Then in disappointment she added, "It's going out."

In truth the light grew weaker and weaker, then faded away. "What could it have been?" asked wondering Ruth.

"It was the Morse alphabet," said Harriet. "But I could not read it clearly."

Lois caught her breath so convulsively that the others looked at her in alarm. "They are wrecked out there!"

"But where?" demanded Ruth.

"On Hen and Chickens. There is nothing else in that direction."

The others knew it must be so. With the same impulse they started for the house, and gasped out the news to Mrs. Winslow. Then they stood for some helpless seconds, staring at one another, before Lois asked, "Where are the nearest men?"

"There are none nearer than the village," answered Mrs. Winslow. "All the men and boys of our little summer settlement are either in the city or away cruising. Oh, for a telephone!" She thought for a minute, then spoke with decision. "Ruth, come with me to the village to get boatmen to go in one of the motor cat-boats to the rock." They snatched up scarves and jackets, and in a moment were gone.

Lois had stood still, a hand on Harriet's arm. Harriet had made a movement to go with them; but Lois's grip tightened, and when Harriet looked at her she shook her head. "Harriet," she said, when the two had gone, "they must go to the village and find men and get the boat started. That will take half an hour, and fifteen minutes more are needed to come from the inner cove. I can get to the rock in fifteen minutes myself— in less time! Come and help me start!"

Without waiting for an answer she hurried out of the house, and down the path that led to the boat-house. Harriet was close on her heels. Through the dark shrubbery they darted, where the bushes arched over their heads; down the hillside they plunged; and reaching the level of the beach they ran past the silent boat-house and out upon the narrow planking of the little pier.

The tide was very high; it was breaking angrily on the beach, and close beneath the planks it was slapping on the posts. The shadows were very black, the moonlight on the water was uncannily pale. As the girls ran out to the float they heard the waves choking, gurgling, buffeting without ceasing. The chains were groaning, the gangplank creaking. The float was almost at the level of the pier, and the gang-plank scarcely dipped to reach it. Waves were breaking over the outer end of the float, and spray was flung the whole length of it. It was slippery with standing water, and rocked restlessly from side to side.

At the inner end of the float was tied Neil's

little fishing-boat. Its sail was lying almost loose on the deck and in the cockpit, where Lois had dropped and left it after tying a few gaskets around its middle. The wind flapped the loose canvas, the boat tossed heavily; but she had been well tied, and rode free of float and pier. Lois darted round the end of the gangway, pulled the boat in, and stepped aboard. Harriet was close behind.

Not a word was said. Harriet cast off the gaskets when Lois was already feeling for the reef-points. The reef was laid and tied; there was this time no difficulty with the short boom that, made for rough weather, extended only an arm's-length beyond the square stern. Lois thrust down the center-board. Harriet loosed the sheet, Lois sprang to the halyards, and together they hauled up the reefed sail and made the halyards fast. Then when Lois took the tiller and gathered in the sheet Harriet pulled the boat to the float, stepped out, and untied the painter that held her. Holding the boat by the wire stay that ran down from the masthead, she threw the painter into the long cockpit that extended almost to the bow, and led the boat to the float's corner. A wave ran the whole length of the float and rose above her ankles.

"Push off!" cried Lois. "Harriet, good-by!"

Harriet pushed the bow of the boat away from the float. She felt the little cat-boat begin to heel as the wind filled the sail. But she did not let go the stay. Instead, pushing hard for the last time, she clung to the wire and stepped lightly aboard the boat.

"Harriet!" cried Lois, in remonstrance.

Harriet stepped carefully down into the cockpit. She came close to Lois in order to make herself heard. "Don't you know you need me?" she asked. "One of the boys must be hurt, or else they would have swum to shore. I shall be needed to get him aboard."

She went forward and began to coil the halyards. But abandoning the work almost as soon as she had begun it, she came back to Lois's side. "Besides," she said, almost indignantly, "my brother is there. Do you think I 'd let you go without me?"

She went back to her work.

When it was finished and she was again at Lois's side she had time to realize the difficulty of their position. The wind drove into the harbor directly through its entrance; there was therefore a rare chance for the making of great waves. They swept in furiously, snapping off their tops, throwing their spray many yards. Already both the girls were wet through their sweaters, and their skirts were clinging to them. Lois had laid