xt
day in the early summer dawn at the pier near the Porto Olimpio where
Carlo Parodi's boat lay. Raffaelle had brought a jug of water and some
fishing lines, Giuseppe a basket of provisions, and Cesare his compass.
They could hardly wait until the last of the fishing boats had put out
to sea before they ran down the pier to embark in their own small craft.
The _Red Dragon_ was the boat's name, given her because of the painted
picture of a terrible monster that sprawled across the sail. She was old
and weather-beaten, a simple sailboat with only a shallow cabin, such as
is used in the Mediterranean to coast along the shore.

Under Giuseppe's leadership the food and water were stowed on board, the
sail raised, and the boat cast off from the pier. Cesare took the tiller
and with a light morning breeze the _Red Dragon_ drew proudly away from
the beach and headed eastward toward Genoa.

As the sun rose higher the breeze stiffened, the sail filled and the
brilliant dragon spread out his red body and tail. Each of the boys had
sailed this inland sea a hundred times before, but never had it seemed
so wonderful a place as on this summer morning. The water dashed along
the gunwale and sometimes sent a warm spray into their faces. Behind
them lay the curving harbor, beyond that the red and yellow and brown
roofs and walls of Nice, and still farther back the dim blue outlines of
the mountains.

They were so excited that for some time they forgot they had had no
breakfast. Presently Raffaelle remembered it, and Giuseppe's basket was
opened and its stock of rye bread, bologna sausage and olives handed
around. The boys were surprised to find how hungry they were, but like a
prudent captain Giuseppe would only let them eat a small part of the
rations. "Suppose we should run into a spell of calm weather before we
sighted Genoa," said he.

After breakfast Raffaelle took the helm and Cesare and Giuseppe lay up
in the bow and planned what they would do after they landed at Genoa.

* * * * *

Meanwhile the three families of Parodi, Deandreis and Garibaldi in Nice
were considerably excited. A boy in each family had disappeared. Knowing
what close friends the three boys were the fathers sought each other.
Each family had the same tale to tell.

Then came word that Carlo Parodi's boat was missing, and this gave the
searchers a clue. They went to the beach, but only to find that all the
fishing-boats had