dly. My glance caught a flash of meaning that passed between
the two. It seemed to hint at a triumphant mockery of my plight.

"Caine is a deep-sea brute, mean-hearted enough to be pleased at what
has happened," I thought peevishly. Later I learned how wide of the mark
my interpretation of that look had been.

A chorus of welcome greeted me as I passed up the gangway to the deck of
the _Argos_. One voice came clear to me from the rest. It had in it the
sweet drawl of the South.

"You're late again, Mr. Sedgwick. And--what's the matter with your
head?"

"Nothing worth mentioning, Miss Wallace. Captain Bothwell has been
trying to find what is inside of it. I think he found sawdust."

"You mean----"

"Knocked in the head as I came down to the wharf. Serves me right for
being asleep at the switch. Think I'll run down to my room and wash the
blood off."

Yeager offered to examine the wound. He had had some experience in
broken heads among the boys at his ranch, he said.

"Perhaps I could dress the hurt. I had a year's training as a nurse,"
suggested Miss Wallace, a little shyly.

"Mr. Yeager is out of a job," I announced promptly.

The girl blushed faintly.

"We'll work together, Mr. Yeager."

She made so deft a surgeon that I was sorry when her cool, firm fingers
had finished with the bandages. Nevertheless, I had a nasty headache and
was glad to get to bed after drinking a cup of tea and eating a slice of
toast.

CHAPTER X

ANOTHER STOWAWAY

Southward ho! Before the trade winds we scudded day after day, past
Catalina Island and San Diego, past Santa Margarita lying like a fog
bank on the offing, out into the warm sunshine of the tropical Pacific.

We promised ourselves that after the treasure had been lifted and we
were headed again for the Golden Gate, our sails should have a chance to
show what they could do alone, but now Blythe was using all his power to
drive the _Argos_ forward.

What plans Bothwell might have we did not know, but we were taking no
chances of reaching Doubloon Spit too late. If we succeeded in getting
what we had come after there would be plenty of time to dawdle.

No days in my life stand out as full of enjoyment as those first ones
off the coast of Lower California and Mexico. Under a perfect sky we
sailed serenely. Our fears of Bothwell had vanished. We had shaken him
off and held the winning hand in the game we had played with him. The
tang of the sea spume, of the