cooking long enough to run down and make sure that all was snug and
tight aboard the "Restless." The young skipper had fairly to fight his
way against the wind on his return to the bungalow.

"There's going to be a tough old gale to-night," Tom muttered to
himself, as he halted, a moment, on the porch, to study the weather
conditions.

As yet, it was blowing only fairly hard. As the little group at the
bungalow seated themselves at supper, however, the storm broke, with a
deluge of rain and a sharp roar of thunder.

"This will bother wireless conditions to-night, won't it?" queried Mr.
Seaton, as they ate.

"Some, perhaps, if the gale and the storm keep up," replied Joe
Dawson. "But I imagine the worst of the gale is passing now."

And so it proved. An hour later the rain was falling steadily, though
only in a drizzle. The wind had moderated a good deal.

As all hands, save Hank, sat in the sitting room of the bungalow,
after the meal, the warning bell from the apparatus room suddenly
tinkled.

"You see, sir," said Joe, rising quickly, "the wireless is still able
to work."

He passed into the next room, seating himself by the instruments and
slipping on the head-band that held the receivers.

"From Beaufort, sir," Joe said, presently, looking up. "The police
report that no such schooner has landed at that city."

"Acknowledge the message of the police," directed Mr. Seaton, "and ask
them not to give up the lookout through the night. Tell the chief of
police that I'll gladly meet any expense that may be incurred."

Joe's right hand reached out for the sending-key. Then a blank look
flashed across his face.

"Something wrong with the sending-key connections," he explained, in a
low voice, leaping up. He examined the connections closely, yet, the
more he looked, the more puzzled he became.

"The storage batteries can't have given out," he muttered, snatching
up a lighted lantern. "But I'll go and look at them."

Out into the little dynamo shed he darted, followed by Powell Seaton
and by Tom. The doctor was dozing in an arm-chair.

Joe gave two or three swift looks at the dynamo, the storage battery
connections and other parts of the apparatus. Then his face went white
with rage.

"Look here, Mr. Seaton," he panted, hoarsely. "There's been some
infernal work here--someone else has been on the island, for none of
our crowd would do such a trick! Not even in fun! Look, sir, at where
the parts have been ta