e and
Hepton took their trick on deck, while Halstead and Hank Butts went
below for some sleep. Through most of the night Powell Seaton remained
hard at work over his writing, often pausing to read and make some
corrections.

Morning found the two boats still at anchor. With sunrise came a
stiffer wind that rocked the "Restless" a good deal.

"Now, look out for one of the sudden September gales," warned Captain
Tom Halstead, as, after the second short sleep of the night, he came
up on deck, yawning and stretching. He stepped over to read the
barometer, then turned quickly to Joe.

"Looks like something's going to happen, doesn't it?" queried Dawson.

"Yes; there's a disturbance heading this way," admitted Tom, looking
around at the sky. "Yet it may be hours, or a day, off yet. If we were
going under canvas, though, I'd shorten it."

"The captain of the Drab evidently believes in being prepared," hinted
Joe, nodding in the direction of the other craft. Two men were now
visible on the deck of the seventy-footer. They were taking up anchor,
though not doing it with either speed or stealth.

"I reckon we have to take our sailing orders from them," nodded the
young skipper. "You'd better get the motors on the mote, Joe. I'll
have Hank and Hepton help me up with our anchor."

Soon afterwards the Drab was heading north at a ten-mile gait; half a
minute later the "Restless" started in leisurely pursuit.

After half an hour or so the Drab headed into another open roadstead,
anchoring a quarter of a mile from shore. Tom dropped anchor some
three hundred yards to the southward.

"Keep your eye seaward, Hank," directed the young skipper. "Joe, if
you'll see whether Mr. Seaton wants anything, Hepton and I will keep a
keen eye on the shore."

"Mr. Seaton is asleep in the port stateroom," Dawson reported back a
moment later. "I've made eight calls through the night, but I'll get
at the sending key again, and see whether there's anything in our line
within hail."

Hardly had Joe Dawson vanished below when Skipper Tom uttered a sudden
exclamation. A sharp, bright glint of light from under the trees on
shore caught his watchful eye.

"Look there!" the young captain called, pointing to the flash.

"There's another," muttered Hank Butts, pointing further up the
coast.

"By Jimminy, there's a third," cried Hepton, pointing.

"Signals for the Dalton-Lemly crew," uttered Tom, disgustedly. "_They_
are getting news, now, and