d Paul Jones as Dave faced quickly about when the boat
came alongside. But his half-jocular tone fell on ears attuned to serious
matters.

"Oh! this is a terrible thing," said MacLester, his eyes fixed on the
flood of flames.

"I was never so glad as I am this minute! What in the world happened to
you, Dave? But never mind; you're safe now," Way answered with emphasis.

Somehow all felt it was no time for conversation. Dave made no response to
Phil's question. But Billy Worth--Chef Billy--remembered one thing.

"Have you had anything to eat?" he demanded. "I'll bet you haven't!"

"Mighty little--either of us," was the answer. "We were lost,--just about."

"Here's something!" and Worth drew a basket out from beneath a blanket.
"Guess we'll all feel better for a bite of breakfast," he added.

Crackers, cheese, bread and butter and bananas were in the "ship's
stores," as Billy expressed it, and there was enough for all.

The simple matter of eating served not only to relieve hunger but gave all
present a sense of better acquaintance and far greater freedom in talking
with one another.

"'Tis an awful waste of wood, sure!" said Mr. O'Lear.

Obviously he referred to the fire. The flames now swept the shore line
from the Point to the lake's eastern boundary. For miles upon miles the
forest was a whirlwind of furiously roaring flames, or a desolate waste
of blazing wreckage, smoldering stumps and blackened, leafless tree trunks.

"The clubhouse! The roof has caught!" cried Billy Worth suddenly. "And
look! It's a man!--two men, on the porch roof!" he yelled.

"Great heavens! it's Lew Grandall!" cried the stranger on the raft. "And
the other man! They're fighting!"

"It's Murky! The other one is Murky!" Paul's sharp voice fairly shrieked.
"It's the suit-case! They have the suit-case! Murky's trying to get it
away from him!"

"Oo--ho there!" shouted the golfing man with all his force. "Get to the
ground! The fire's all around you! Get into the lake quick or you're dead
men!"

For an instant the two who fiercely struggled on the small balcony seemed
to answer to the voice. Grandall would have leaped, it was apparent, but
the other seized him furiously, and drew him forcibly back. Then a thick
burst of smoke concealed them both.

CHAPTER XI

SETTING WRONG THINGS RIGHT

Wearily had Lewis Grandall lain himself down to sleep in his hot, close
room. It was his last night in the old clubhouse. He might have