hand across his blackened
forehead and squinted in the direction of the island. "No place to be
foolin' round with a cripple either, I can tell you," he growled.
"Reckon I'd better lay to until I can get patched up."

The girl's brow wrinkled.

"All right, Jones. I'll go on. Follow when you can. We'll be around that
next point. Can you beat that?" she exclaimed in a low voice to Gregory.
"His feet are getting cold too, and he's one of the best men I have."

Keeping well off the headland they rounded the point and turned
shoreward.

"In there."

Johnson jerked his head in the direction of a small cove which lay
almost hidden beneath the brow of an overhanging cliff.

"She lays just beyond that arch."

Dickie ordered a halt.

"Can't chance it in there with the big boat. Throw out the hook and keep
your motor warm, Johnson. We may have to get out of here in a hurry.
Keep a good eye on the chain for if she starts to drift you'll be on the
rocks before you can snub her up. Put the dory over, Tom, and we'll go
ashore and take a look."

Under the powerful sweep of Tom Howard's oars, the small boat darted
from the shadow of the launch and sped away toward the cove. Rounding
the natural arch by which the point projected itself into the sea, they
entered the little cove which nestled at the base of the overhanging
cliff. Bisecting the cove, a rugged ledge of rock jutted out into the
sea. Dickie shaded her eyes with her hand and half rose from her seat.
Cradled between two jagged rocks at the extreme end of the ledge, her
bow angling sharply, her stern washed by the lapping waves, bruised and
broken, lay all that was left of her favorite vessel. Only the girl's
eyes mirrored her emotion as she stared at the wreck.

"Looks as if they made a clean job of it," she observed quietly. "Land
right in here, Tom. We'll climb up on the ledge and walk over."

Pulling the dory up on the rocks they stumbled over the slippery
eel-grass and approached the ill-fated craft. Dickie Lang examined the
hull.

"Looks like Manuel wasn't dreaming, at that," she ejaculated, pointing
to the jagged hole in the _Petrel's_ side.

"Somebody bumped him all right and it must have been almost in the cove
or he would never have drifted in here."

The further examination of the wreck went on in silence. The engine was
half-submerged, Gregory noticed, and the water poured from the
splintered hull and splashed to the rocks in a series of tiny catar