morning none of them could
answer these questions. Was there ever a rough-and-tumble that anybody
could explain lucidly the morning after? Perhaps it was the false pride of
youth; the bitter distaste at the thought of six turning tail for one.

Cunningham fired a shot at the ceiling, and a dozen of the crew came
piling in from the forward end of the passage. The fighting stopped
magically.

"You fools!" cried Cunningham in a high, cracked voice. "To put our heads
into hemp at the last moment. If anything happens to young Cleigh, back to
Manila you go with the yacht! Clear out! At the last moment!" It was like
a sob.

Jane, still entranced, saw Cleigh stoop and put his arms under the body of
his son, heave, and stand up under the dead weight. He staggered past her
toward the main salon. She heard him mutter.

"God help me if I'm too late--if I've waited too long! Denny?"

That galvanized her into action, and she flew to the light buttons,
flooding both the dining and the main salons. She helped Cleigh to place
Dennison on the lounge. After that it was her affair. Dennison was alive,
but how much alive could be told only by the hours. She bathed and
bandaged his head. Beyond that she could do nothing but watch and wait.

"I wouldn't mind--a little of that--water," said Cunningham, weakly.

Cleigh, with menacing fists, wheeled upon him; but he did not strike the
man who was basically the cause of Denny's injuries. At the same time
Jane, looking up across Dennison's body, uttered a gasp of horror. The
entire left side of Cunningham was drenched in blood, and the arm
dangled.

"Flint had a knife--and--was quite handy with it."

"For me!" she cried. "For defending me! Mr. Cleigh, Flint caught me on
deck--and Mr. Cunningham--oh, this is horrible!"

"You were right, Cleigh. The best-laid plans of mice and men! What an ass
I am! I honestly thought I could play a game like this without hurt to
anybody. It was to be a whale of a joke. Flint----"

Cunningham reached blindly for the nearest chair and collapsed in it.

* * * * *

An hour later. The four of them were still in the main salon. Jane sat at
the head of the lounge, and from time to time she took Dennison's pulse
and temperature. She had finally deduced that there had been no serious
concussion. Cleigh sat at the foot of the lounge, his head on his hands.
Cunningham occupied the chair into which he had collapsed. Thre