e a crumbling
roller almost swamped the boat. Out went everything that would float.

"Save that bucket, Perce!" shouted Spurring.

Percy clutched the handle just as the pail was going over the side. He
bailed, while Spurling brought the flooded craft stern to the seas.

"Take her now, Perce! Give me the bucket!"

Furiously he began scooping out the water. After a long, discouraging
fight the boat was bailed clear.

"We've got to run before it while I rig another drug," said Spurling.
"Keep her as she is."

In the stern stood a five-gallon can of gasolene, one of the few things
that had not been washed overboard when the dory filled. Making use of
the sadly diminished coil of ground-line, Jim fastened this can to the
end of the painter. Picking a smooth chance, he swung the bow up into
the wind again; and soon they were floating snugly behind their new
drug.

For another hour they drifted uneventfully. Out of a cloudless sky the
red sun dropped below the flying spindrift. A second night was coming,
and still the norther raged with undiminished violence.

It was growing dark and the stars were already out when a new sound fell
on Percy's ears.

"What's that?" he exclaimed.

Up from the south came a faint, long-drawn, mournful voice,
_Oo-oo-oo-ooh!_ They listened breathlessly. It sounded again,
_Oo-oo-oo-ooh!_

"Whistling buoy!" ejaculated Jim. He thought a moment. "Cashe's Ledge!"
he shouted. "Sixty miles south of Tarpaulin! That's drifting some since
yesterday afternoon. Must be less than a mile to leeward or we couldn't
hear it against this gale."

Nearer and nearer, louder and louder, sounded the melancholy note, just
west of south. Both boys strained their eyes.

"I see it!" cried Percy, triumphantly. "There--rising on that swell!
Almost astern! It's striped red and black!"

But Jim gave him no heed. Lips parted and face pale, he was gazing
intently at something farther off. Suddenly he lifted his hand.

"Listen! Do you hear that?"

Above the noise of the surrounding sea rose a low, savage roar. Percy
caught Jim's alarm.

"What is it?"

"The breaker on the shoal! Sometimes it combs up high as a house. It's
less than a quarter-mile southwest of the buoy, and we're drifting
straight down upon it! If we go over it, we'll be swamped, sure as fate,
drug or no drug! We'll simply be buried under tons and tons of water!"

Percy fought off his panic.

"What shall we do?" he stammered.

"Make the wh