f a prophet, we would have squalls and dirty weather long
before those four hours were over. And the dingy, in that position, was
not safe to face a blow. No, as the small boys say, it was "up to me." I
wished it was not, but it was.

So again I went to the rescue, but this time in an entirely different
frame of mind. My anger and resentment had settled to a cold
determination, and this trip was purely business. I was not at a
disadvantage now, as I had been when I first met that girl and her
friend, in "Big Jim" Colton's library. I was master of this situation
and master I intended to be.

I sculled the skiff straight in to the edge of the flat, at a point
where the bank sloped sharply to deep water. I threw over my anchor,
shortened the rope and made it fast. Then I stepped out into water above
my shoe tops and waded toward the dingy. The water was icy cold, but I
did not know it at the time.

I splashed through the eelgrass. Victor saw me coming and roared an
angry protest. He was still trying to push the boat off with an oar.

"Here!" he shouted. "You keep away. We don't want you."

I did not care what he wanted. I splashed alongside the dingy and looked
at her and the position she was in. My mind was made up instantly.

"You'll never get her off if you both stay aboard," I said. "Let the
lady move amidships and you get out and wade."

He glared at me as if I were as crazy as Colton or Lute had declared me
to be. Then he laughed contemptuously.

"You go back where you came from," he ordered. "I'm running this."

"Yes, I've noticed that. Now I'll state the facts as plainly as I can.
This boat is fast aground in the mud, the tide is still going out, and
there are squalls coming. She must be got off or there may be danger.
You can't get her off until she is lightened. Will you get out and
wade?"

He did not answer; instead he continued to push with the oar. I turned
to the girl.

"Miss Colton," I said, "I must ask you to stand up. Be careful when you
rise."

She made no move, nor did she reply. The look she gave me was enough.

"You must stand up," I repeated, firmly. "Either your--this
gentleman--must get out, as I tell him to, or I shall have to carry you
to my skiff. We haven't any time to spare."

She gazed at me in blank astonishment. Then the color flamed in her
cheeks and her eyes flashed.

"We don't wish your help," she said, icily.

"I'm sorry, but that makes no difference. I--"

Victor w