the squall broke. Pulling into the rising gale as they were
and the water being always a little rough here, at first none of Ruth
Fielding's associates in the craft realized that there was the least
danger.

They were well off shore, for near the island the water was shallow and
there were rocks. These rowing shells are made so lightly that a mere
scraping of the keel over a sunken boulder would probably completely
wreck the craft, and well the girls knew this.

Trix Davenport steered well out from the dangerous shallows. "Pull away,
girls!" she shouted through her megaphone. "It's going to blow."

And just then the real squall swept down upon them. Ruth, although
setting a good, long stroke, found of a sudden that the shell was
scarcely moving ahead. The wind was so strong that they were only
holding their own against it.

"Pull!" shouted the coxswain again.

Ruth bent forward, braced her feet firmly and drove the long oar-blade
deep into the jumping little waves. Those waves quickly became larger
and "jumpier." A white wreath formed upon their crests. The shell in a
very few seconds was in the midst of white water.

Once with Uncle Jabez, and in a heavy punt, the girl of the Red Mill had
been caught in the rapids of the Lumano below the mill, and had fought
with skill and courage to help save the boat. This effort was soon to be
as great--and she realized it.

She set a pace that drove the shell on in the teeth of the squall; but
the boat shivered with every stroke. It was as though they were trying
to push the narrow, frail little shell into a solid wall.

In pulling her oar Ruth scarcely ever raised her eyes to a level with
the coxswain's face; but when she chanced to, she saw that Trix was
pallid and her eyes were clouded with fear.

Ruth hoped none of the other girls saw that mask of dread which the
situation had forced upon their little coxswain. She wanted to cry out
to Trix--to warn her to hide her emotion. But she had no breath to spare
for this.

Every ounce of breath and of muscle she owned, Ruth put into her stroke.
She felt the rhythmic spring of the craft, and knew that her mates were
keeping well up with her. They were doing their part bravely, even
though they might be frightened.

And then, suddenly and fortunately, the freshman craft found a sheltered
bit of water. A high shoulder of the hilly island broke the force of the
wind.

"Ashore! Put us ashore!" Ruth managed to gasp so that Tri