k out of it
because anyone would let me--because I am a girl?"

Completely at a loss to know what to do upon this turn of events, Curlie
stood there staring back at the girl.

She at last sank back upon her seat. Curlie took three turns around the
deck. At last he approached her with a steady step.

"Miss Ardmore," he said, taking off his cap, "I apologize. I--I really
didn't know that a girl could be that kind of a real sport."

Before she could answer he hurried on: "For the time being we can let
the matter we were just speaking of rest. Matters far more important
than the vindicating of the law, important as that always is, are before
us. Your brother and his friend, unless I am mistaken, are in grave
danger. We may be able to save them; we may not. We can but try and this
trial requires all our wisdom and strength.

"More than that," he again held his face to the stiffening gale, "we
ourselves are in considerable danger. Whether this 'cockleshell,' as the
skipper calls her, can weather a severe storm on the open sea, is a
question. That question is to be answered within a few hours. We're in
for a blow. We're too far on our way to retreat if we wished to. We must
weather it. You can be of assistance to us as you suggest, and more than
that, you can help us by being brave, fearless and hopeful. May we count
on you?"

There was a cold, brave smile on the girl's face as she answered:

"You know my father. He has never yet been beaten. I am his child."

Then suddenly, casting all reserve aside, she gripped his arm and
bestowing a warm smile upon him said almost in a whisper:

"Curlie Carson, I like you. You're real, the realest person I ever
knew." Then turning swiftly about, she danced along the deck, to
disappear down the hatch to the forecastle.

"Huh!" said Curlie, after a moment's thought, "I never could make out
what girls are like. But one thing I'm sure of: that one will drown or
starve or freeze when necessity demands it, without a murmur. You can
count on her!"

Throwing a swift glance to where a thick bank of clouds was painting the
night sky the color of blue-black ink, he hurried below to consult with
the skipper about the weather. They were, he concluded, some three
hundred and fifty miles out to sea. If this storm meant grave dangers to
them, what must it mean to two boys in a seaplane skimming through the
air over the sea? He shivered at the thought.

Fifteen minutes later, Curlie was in th