ch a fearful stumble as that?"
groaned Tom.

"You didn't, any more than I did," Joe tried to console him.

"We should, at least, have kept Hilton aboard until Mr. Seaton had had
a chance to look him over."

"I could send a wireless to the Beaufort police to grab Hilton on
landing," suggested Joe, doubtfully, but Tom Halstead shook his head
energetically.

"No; the Beaufort police wouldn't do that on our say-so, Joe. And,
even if they did, we might get ourselves into a lot of trouble."

The "Restless" kept smoothly, swiftly on her way, bounding over the
low, gentle swell of the calm ocean. Tom shivered whenever he thought
of the possibility of the motors becoming cranky. With such important
human freight aboard any mishap to the machinery would be extremely
serious.

"Joe," called Tom, at last, as the yacht came in sight of Lonely
Island, "there's a tug at our dock."

Dawson came on deck, taking the marine glass from his chum's hand.

"I guess Mr. Seaton has been hustling, then. He couldn't have come
from Beaufort on the tug, after all the trouble of rounding up
doctors. He must have come down the shore in an automobile, and then
engaged the tug near the island."

As the "Restless" went closer, the tug, with two short toots of its
whistle, moved out from the dock. Powell Seaton, in broad-brimmed hat
and blue serge, waved his hand vigorously at the boys. With him stood
three men, presumably surgeons. Captain Tom Halstead sounded three
short blasts of the auto-whistle to signal the success of his errand,
while Joe swung his uniform cap over his head.

"Get down to your engines, Joe," called Captain Tom. "I'm going to
make a swift landing that will be in keeping with Mr. Seaton's
impatience."

Up to within nearly two hundred yards of the dock the "Restless"
dashed in at full speed. Then signaling for half speed, next for the
stop, and finally for the reverse, Captain Tom swung the yacht in
almost a semi-circle, running up with bare headway so that the boat
lay in gently against the string-piece. In that instant Tom, leaving
the wheel, bounded up onto the dock, bow hawser in hand, and made the
loop fast over the snubbing post. In the same instant Joe Dawson,
cat-footed, raced aft, next leaping ashore with the stern hawser.

"Jove, but that was a beautiful bit of boat-handling--a superb piece
of seamanship!" muttered one of the surgeons, admiringly.

Powell Seaton, however, stopped to hear none of this. He gr