ep-set blue eyes
glittered ominously. But the boy who faced him from the wharf was no
less stirred up.

Mart Judson looked a good deal more than his seventeen years, for he had
worked his own way in the world and his face had a serious air of
responsibility. He wore a smudgy mechanic's cap and greasy overalls, and
from his keen gray eyes, determined mouth and chin, and straight black
hair, an observer might have deduced that he could be a hard worker and
a stubborn fighter if need were.

Yet it was small wonder that Swanson had laughed at him. A boy mechanic
asking for Stephen Hollinger personally, insisting that the millionaire
had sent for him! Mart started obstinately up the gangplank and the mate
laid his pipe on the rail, gave a hitch to his trousers, and moved
forward to repel boarders.

Before he reached the open gangway, however, there came an interrupting
shout from the deck:

"Hello, old Mart Judson! How're ye?"

A second later Mart found himself clasping hands with his friend, Bob
Hollinger, better known as "Holly," the son of the mining expert and
millionaire who owned the yacht. It was a hearty greeting, in spite of
the greasy, cheap clothes of the one, and the carelessly costly dress of
the other. The fact that Mart Judson worked for his living mattered
nothing to Bob or to his father; the boys were the same age and had gone
through high school together, and the two were firm friends.

Stephen Hollinger was an eccentric yet sensible "old-timer," whose
habits were rough and ready and who made Bob work for his pocket-money
most of the time. He had been working just at present, Mart noted; his
fingers were ink-stained, his blue-eyed, freckled, careless face was
smudged, and he seemed both dirty and happy.

Mart glanced about in frank admiration at the white decks and evident
luxury aboard the yacht. It was his first visit to the _Seamew_, for she
was seldom used by her owner. Swanson moved off, grumbling. Mart sent a
good-humored laugh after the discomfited mate, and turned to his chum.

"What's on your mind, Holly? I had a mighty hard time gettin'
away--we're rushed up at the shop. Blurt it out, 'cause I ain't got time
for visitin' to-day. Some seamen had a scrap down at the Peniel Mission,
and I've got to get down there with some new bulbs and fixtures before
dark. What's goin' on?"

"You are," grinned Holly in delight. "Say, Mart--I've got the best news
you ever heard! See those boxes over there