friends?"

Bandrist pointed seaward where a dory was rounding the point and heading
shoreward.

The girl acknowledged his words with a curt nod.

"Here come the boys from the _Curlew_," she announced.

When the landing party reached the _Petrel's_ side, Jones and Sorenson
stared in silence at the white-shirted man leaning against the rail.

"Got things fixed up, Jones? You were a long time coming."

The skipper of the _Curlew_ climbed aboard before replying. Drawing the
girl to one side, he said quietly: "Thing's pretty well shot, miss. Took
her down and found this."

He extended a blackened handkerchief covered with fine dust. Dickie Lang
examined it carefully, rubbing the particles of black grit between her
fingers.

"Emery dust?"

Jones nodded. "She's full of it," he answered. "Don't dare and start her
up. She'd cut herself to pieces."

Silently regarding the blackened particles, the girl asked: "Carlin was
with you yesterday you said, didn't you?"

"Yes. Him and Jacobs."

"Carlin's enough. I knew he was a dub. But I didn't think he had brains
enough to be a crook. I know now. Well, we've got enough trouble right
here for a while without bothering about your boat. You rip up the motor
and Sorenson and Mr. Gregory can strip the deck. We've got to hustle. It
will begin to rough up soon. Then we'll have to run with what we have.
She'll break up on the flood by the looks of things."

Pausing for a moment to partake of a meager lunch which Dickie
discovered had been overlooked by the robber of the _Petrel_, all hands
turned again to the work of salvaging the motor.

Through the long afternoon they worked in silence. As Gregory stripped
the iron chaulks from the deck and removed the stays, he noticed that
Bandrist leaned idly against the rail with his blue eyes following the
movements of Dickie Lang with great interest. Once, before Gregory could
surmise his purpose, he sprang to the girl's side and assisted her with
a piece of shaft and the ease with which he handled the heavy brass
caused the young man to marvel.

A queer specimen of man was Bandrist, he reflected, to be marooned in
such a spot as this. Gregory's work gave him a chance to study the
islander without being observed. He was a figure who merited more than a
passing glance. He would challenge attention in any environment. While
he twisted the galvanized turn-buckles, rusted by the salt-air, Gregory
appraised the man carefully.

Trained t