hat long?" demanded Fred.

"I don't know. Still you never can tell, and it's always well to be
prepared."

"You're right," acknowledged George. "At any rate, I don't want any
water."

It was a characteristic of these four boys that they were usually
cheerful under any and all conditions. No matter how hard a thing might
be, they bore it willingly if it was necessary. They made complaints if
they thought it was unnecessary, but when they knew it was the only
thing to be done they never raised a murmur. No sportsman ever complains
of a thing that is fair, and what is best for the most people is always
fair.

Hour after hour dragged by. To the little band on board the life-boat it
seemed as if morning would never come. The storm had passed, but the
water was still rough and the night still inky dark. Now and again the
boys dozed off and caught a few winks of sleep. No attempt to row had
been made for several hours. Petersen steered the boat and was the only
one who did not rest. Incessantly through the long night he guided the
little craft and watched over the safety of those on board.

At last morning came. The first faint streaks of light thrust their rosy
fingers up over the eastern horizon and soon the whole sky was covered
with an orange glow. Little by little the faint outlines of the
occupants of the life boat became visible. What a sorry looking crew it
was, too. Disheveled, dirty and unkempt, they plainly showed the effects
of their harrowing experience.

As the light crept over the ocean it showed some of the party asleep.
The others were haggard and worn looking and seemed to have but small
concern as to what happened to them. They lolled on the cross seats in a
listless way, not at all interested in the beautiful sunrise. They were
more concerned in their own welfare than in the beauties of Nature.

"Oh, hum," yawned Sam, raising himself from the position in which he had
lain all night. "We sho' has had a powerful lot of hard--"

He caught sight of Petersen and suddenly ceased talking. A change came
over his face as he recognized the man to whom he charged the hard luck
that had overtaken them. Hate spread itself over the features of the
superstitious negro and his breath came in short gasps as if some one
was choking him.

"Dar yo' are!" he exclaimed fiercely. "Dar yo' are, yo' hard luck Finn.
I'll fix yo'," and he started to make his way towards the stern of the
boat to the spot where his enemy was