nd every
answer baffling and unsatisfactory. The yachtsman refused any sort of
information. His reticence angered the old man, and he at last spoke his
mind freely, with something of suspicion engendered by a new thought
concerning that curious drop of blood on the girl's arm.

"She acts ter me like a woman chuck-er-block with Bateman Drops or
opium. A heap o' that kind o' truck is used by the women about
these-here islands o' the Sound, an' I've seed a heap o' the effects o'
it in the years past, but the good Lord knows it's a spell since Captain
Icky has seed a _woman_ a-hitten dope, as new-fangled folks calls it."

The man who had been rescued by Ichabod started violently as he heard
the word "dope." He cast a probing glance on the old man, but spoke
never a word.

"Thar is one thing fer sartin," continued the fisherman, "if it hain't
dope that is a'lin' o' her, it's somethin' that calls fer an M.D., an'
if she hain't come to her senses in an hour, I'll put the rag on the
skiff an' run up to Beaufort an' bring back Dr. Hudson to pass on the
case. Thar has never been a death o' a human in Ichabod Jones' shack,
an' Lord have mercy, the first passin' sha'n't be a woman!"

The condition of the girl continued such that Ichabod felt it necessary
to summon the physician. He must make the trip in his sailboat to
Beaufort, the nearest town along the coast. The yachtsman now approved
the idea.

When Captain Ichabod went to make ready his boat for the trip to town,
the yachtsman followed him, and then presently, walking down to where
the wreckage had come ashore, proceeded to right and clear of debris a
little cedar motor boat, which had come ashore from the wrecked yacht,
practically unharmed, except that the batteries were wet.

In the absence of Captain Ichabod, the stranger removed all the wire
connections in this small boat, and placed the batteries over the stove
to dry. When they were in fact thoroughly dried, he waited patiently for
the departure of Captain Ichabod in search of a physician. Presently,
the old man set out on his errand of mercy. The stranger yachtsman
grinned derisively as he saw the boat slip into the smother of
storm-tossed waters.

CHAPTER III

A NEW CALAMITY

Perhaps there is no point upon the Carolina coast where there is more
interest shown in weather conditions than at Beaufort, the present
terminus of the great inland water-route from Boston to the Gulf. There
are vital reason