art showing the Malay coasts, the captain pointed
to the river mouth in question.

"You see, there's a lagoon inside the entrance, about nine miles long,
and closed in from the sea by this island. Jerry says that the lagoon
makes a fine harbor, and is deep enough for the yacht. There are no
hills close to the coast, but there's plenty of jungle, and we'll find
some tigers without trouble."

"Sure?" asked Bob skeptically. His father laughed.

"Why, until late years they used to shoot them down at the city of
Singapore itself! I'll take a trip in first, to make sure it'll be all
right for you to come along, and while I'm gone you can take care of the
yacht. Then we'll make up a grand hunting party, and everybody will get
a tiger, eh?"

"Bully!" exclaimed Mart eagerly, and departed to his wireless with a
sheaf of messages to be sent off via Honolulu. Having sent them and
arranged for answers to be sent at two o'clock that afternoon, he
rejoined Bob and went down to mess.

That afternoon they gained their last sight of land for many days, as
the _Seamew_ entered the Kamukahi Channel, passing between the
green-clad hills of Niihau and Kauai, and then struck out on her
straight course for the southernmost of the Philippines, with nearly
five thousand miles of sea before her and seventeen days of journeying,
if all went well.

For two days all went well, indeed, and then came on what Liverpool
Peters described as a moderate gale, but which seemed like a hurricane
to Mart. They had had fine weather so far, and Mart had long ago
dismissed all thoughts of seasickness, but now he gave up completely.
Bob had long since been seasoned, of course, and poor Mart suffered
alone for three terrible days.

On the third day he felt sure that he was dying, but when Bob came down
to the stateroom and grinningly offered him a big chunk of raw fat pork,
Mart forgot his symptoms suddenly. Flinging himself out, he caught his
tormentor and bore him to the floor. Bob rose with a bleeding nose,
wiped the pork from his face, and fled; and Mart found that he had
recovered his health suddenly. After a good meal he was himself again,
and the two boys were too firm in friendship to be shaken by a
good-humored "scrap" of such a nature.

Then ensued such days as Mart Judson had never dreamed of, when they got
into the doldrums, the powerful engines of the yacht forcing her ahead
at a steady fifteen knots through calm and glassy waters. The sun wa