re the _Siwash_
whistle announced her coming.

Had the sea been otherwise than calm as a duck pond, we would have
experienced all kinds of trouble, for our raft was nothing more or less
than an unwieldy floating pier.

When the steamer ran into the Bay, I noticed Miss Grant put out alone
and row toward us.

"Jake," I exclaimed somewhat hotly, "if that young lady interferes with
the way we handle this job, by as much as a single word, we'll steer
straight for the shore and leave the piano to sink or swim."

"You bet!" agreed Jake.

"Skirts is all right, but they ain't any good movin' pianners off'n
steamers. Guess we ain't proved ourselves much good neither, so far,
George," he added with a grin.

The _Siwash_ came to a standstill and we threw our ropes aboard and
were soon made fast alongside.

Everything there went like clockwork. The piano was on the lower deck
and slings were already round it, so that all that was necessary to do
was to get the steamer's winch going, hoist the instrument overboard
and lower it on to the raft. The piano was set on a low truck with
runners, contrived for the purpose of moving. I arranged that this
truck be left with us and I would see to its return on the steamer's
south-bound journey.

Our chiefest fear was that the piano might get badly placed or that the
balance of the raft might prove untrue, the whole business would topple
over and the piano would be dispensing nautical airs to the mermaids at
the bottom of Golden Crescent Bay.

Jake's work stood the test valiantly, and, with the hooks and rings he
had fixed into the logs at convenient distances, we lashed the
instrument so firmly and securely that nothing short of a hurricane or
a collision could possibly have dislodged it.

Miss Grant stood by some fifteen yards away, watching the proceedings
interestedly, and anxiously as I thought; but not a word did she utter
to show that she had anything but absolute confidence in our ability.

Finally, they cast our ropes off, and Jake and I, with our four oars,
manned our larger rowing boat and headed for shore. It was hard
pulling, but we ran in on the off side of the wharf, directly in line
with the rocks at the back of which Miss Grant's bungalow was
built,--all without mishap.

Despite the great help of the piano-truck, Jake and I, strive as we
liked, were unable to move the heavy piece of furniture from the raft.
We tugged, and pulled, and hoisted, but to no purpo