hat cut the waves like a razor. But, too, he
knew that, after rounding the point, the tiny vessel would meet the full
fury of the sea, and must be destroyed.

Day broke. In the increased light, the old man cast his lantern aside as
useless and swung his arms as a semaphore. The yacht, buffeted by the
tumbling seas, swept within hailing distance. Captain Ichabod yelled to
the man who was at the tiller to keep her off. In answer, there came
three shrill, pitifully wavering blasts of the whistle--a salute that
was derisive, the absurd response of a madman. And the man at the wheel
waved his hand in pleasant salutation and grinned in a most amiable
manner. Captain Ichabod stared aghast. Then, he realized that the man at
the helm must be a maniac.

The yacht was in the breakers. The first wave spilled clear over her.
Ichabod, watching from the shore, shuddered. He believed her already
lost in the coil of waters. But, to the Captain's amazement, the yacht
eddied and tossed, dived and floated again. Then, at last, it was swept
on the rocks. The hull broke in two under the impact, and the racing
waves swept over the wreck.

Out of the ruin of the yacht, the surge bore a mattress, on which rested
the seemingly lifeless body of a beautiful young woman. Captain Ichabod
saw the strange raft sweep toward the strand. He rushed to seize it, and
pulled it beyond the power of the tide to snatch it back into the maw of
the ocean. Thereafter, he worked over the girl to save her from death by
drowning.

It was a long time before she showed signs of life. But, after a time,
the breast began to rise and fall in the perfect rhythm of health.
Captain Ichabod, wild with anxiety, could hear the breathing of this
woman whom he had saved from the sea. He was glad. He stood working over
her in desperate haste. And then, presently, the lashes of the girl
unclosed, and she stared wonderingly into the face of this old man, who
stood over her with so much tenderness in his expression. The girl,
suddenly arousing to consciousness, spoke anxiously:

"Doctor, tell me, where am I?"

Ichabod felt himself embarrassed. He spoke emphatically.

"No, Miss, I hain't no doctor--that is, I hain't no medical M.D., but
folks says I'm a right smart o' a water doctor fer fever an' sich, but
in yo'r case, I's a-takin' o' the water out instead o' puttin' it in or
rubbin' it on, an' you lacks a heap o' havin' a fever, but arter I gits
ye ter the shack I'll warm up