ainst an iron stanchion. His body
gave a jerk and quiver, then he stretched out unconscious. We all know
that skylarking of that kind sometimes produces the worst accidents.
Naturally Tom was terribly frightened, for he thought Jo was killed,
and he did look it, stretched out, with his eyes closed.

"Jim!" cried Tom, "Jim! come here quick."

There was something in Tom's voice that made Jim appear in a hurry.

"Get the brandy," he said. Tom lost no time in getting the bottle out
of a locker in the main cabin. When he returned he found Juarez and
Jeems standing near looking very sober, while the old captain and Jim
worked over him.

The Frontier Boys had gone through many dangers unscathed, and it
seemed terrible that Jo should be so badly hurt in a moment of play.
In fifteen minutes' time, however, Jo was partially himself, but he
could not walk and had to be helped to his cabin, and that night he
had a high fever, but next day he was quite himself, due mainly to a
rugged constitution.

A few days later the weather began to change. The sea became rough and
boisterous, with head winds and decidedly colder, but the boys did not
complain, in fact they rather liked it, as they were strong and hardy
and enjoyed battling with the elements.

"It's the sweaters for us now," said Jo, coming out on deck, to find
the nasty gray sea swept by rain squalls, and the deck sodden and the
sky sullen.

"I like it," declared Juarez, "the tropics are all right for a few
weeks, but I couldn't stand it for long."

"That's because you lads are stormy petrels," remarked Jeems.

"If by that poetic symbol you mean that we are always in trouble,"
replied Jim, "you certainly have struck it."

Then the boys went below to get their respective sweaters, the colors
being chosen according to their individual taste. Tom's was black,
which is no insinuation against his character; Jim's was blue; Juarez
the same color and Jo's red. As for hats, they still wore their
weather-beaten sombreros. They were just the hats for this kind of
weather.

The evening came on dark and blustery and with a steady beating rain
from the northwest. All about, the seas were humping through the
darkness. But the _Sea Eagle_ was a staunch boat, well built, and well
ballasted, and though she shipped a few seas and the spray flew high
over her bridge, she did not roll or plunge unduly.

"Sort of a nasty night, Jim," remarked Jo, as their dark forms emerged
on deck f