they shipped a good deal of water and
Tom and Juarez were kept busy bailing out. After an hour's hard
struggle the sailors were about all in and seemed hardly able to hold
their own against the sea and wind. The Captain was quick to notice
this.

"Can you row, lad?" he inquired of Juarez. Now the latter's experience
had been confined to his work going down the Grand Canyon of Colorado,
on the raft-boat that the Frontier Boys had built.

Even the old ocean itself could not show anything worse than some of the
rapids that the boys had run. As for rocks, nothing could beat the
canyon for them.

"I'll try, sir," he replied, "I've never rowed on the ocean."

"Humph!" grunted the Captain, "take the starboard. And you, you lazy
long shanks, you take the other oar."

"All right, sir," replied cheerfully, the one addressed.

"Get out of here, Pete," he cried, giving that worthy a lift with his
foot that landed him on top of Tom, "I'll do the steering. You boys will
only have to pull, that's all. I'll keep her headed up right."

Fortunately Juarez was in fine condition, or he could never have stood
the gruelling work ahead. He weighed one hundred and sixty pounds and
there was not an ounce of fat on him. Likewise he had had a sound
night's sleep and three square meals so that he was fortified for what
was ahead.

Juarez buckled to the task with all his strength, and he was glad of the
chance to get his blood in circulation for he was chilled to the bone by
the flying spray, and then too, anything was better than thinking of the
fate ahead. He was surprised to find out that the shepherd who appeared
rather frail in physique was able to keep up the pace.

But he had that sinewy length of muscles that counts for more than mere
bunchy thickness. Juarez was crafty enough not to spend all of his
strength in the first fifteen minutes of work. He liked this, fighting
the sea and standing on his feet he was able to put the whole leverage
of his body into the stroke.

The change in speed was noticeable right away, and the boat began to
pull ahead steadily. The two sailors who had been laid off from
exhaustion, had watched Juarez with a sneering grin as he took the oar.
They were sure that the first wave that came along would wrench the oar
out of his hand. Great was their surprise when they saw him buckle to
the oar, rising and pulling at the right time to meet the toppling,
rustling seas.

"That little shrimp will last about