of a kind we can't read. Hank! Call Mr.
Seaton. _He_ ought to be on deck, watching this."

The charter-man was speedily up into the open.

In the meantime Joe, at the powerful sending apparatus below, sent the
spark leaping across the spark-gap, and, dashing up the aerials, there
shot into space the electric waves intended to be gathered in by any
other wireless operator within fifty or sixty miles.

Crash-sh! Ass-ss-ssh! hissed the spark, bounding, leaping to its work
like a thing of almost animal life.

Bang! This last note that came on the air was sharp, clear, though not
loud. Whew-ew! A bullet uttered a swift sigh as it sped past the
signaling mast twenty feet over the heads of the watchers of the
"Restless."

"Confound it! Rascals on shore are shooting at us," exclaimed Powell
Seaton, turning swiftly to peer at the forest-clad shore line.

"No; they're shooting at our aerials!" retorted Captain Tom Halstead.

Bang! Whe-ew-ew! Clash! Then there was a metallic clash, for the
second rifle shot from the land had scored a fair bull's-eye among the
clustered aerial wires. There was a rattle, and some of the severed
wire ends hung down.

With an ugly grunt, Hepton bounded down into the motor room, passing
up the two rifles.

"We must be careful, though," warned Mr. Seaton. "This time they're
not shooting at us."

"Load and be ready, though!" uttered Captain Tom, dryly. "They soon
will be shooting at us."

Several more shots clattered out, and two more of the bullets did
further damage among the aerial wires. Then Joe came dancing up on
deck, his eyes full of ire.

"The infernal scoundrels have put our spark out of business," he
cried, disgustedly. "We haven't wire enough left to send five miles.
Where do the shots come from?"

"From the shore," Halstead replied, "but see for yourself if you can
locate the marksmen. We can't. They're using smokeless powder, and are
hidden so far in under the trees that we can't even make out the
flashes."

"It's out of my line to locate them," announced Joe Dawson, with
vigor. "It's mine to see that the aerials are put on a working basis
again."

He vanished, briefly, into the motor room, soon reappearing with a
coil of wire and miscellaneous tools.

"Good!" commended Halstead, joyously. "Mr. Seaton, we have wire enough
to repair a dozen smashes, if need be. On up with you, Joe. I'm at
your heels."

Joe started to climb the mast, using the slightly projecting foot