eir differences if
it came to a question of hoodwinking us."

"Oh, sure. I don't know whether this is all funny or dangerous but
we seem to be in the hands of a lot of fools, and that's no joke.
If it wasn't for Marge, I wouldn't worry."

"Dad! Aren't you two coming to breakfast?" Marjorie called from the
door of the cabin, and then seeing the boat approaching the shore,
went to the bulwark and watched them make a landing.

They saw Doc jump out and pull the boat up on the shingle a few
feet, and Jarrow hopped out after him. Dinshaw could be seen
crawling forward, and went into the water up to his knees and ran
up the beach to fall forward and plunge both hands into the sand in
an ecstasy of joy. Those in the schooner could hear his
high-pitched voice as he cackled gleefully.

Then they saw him talking with Jarrow, and pointing to seaward over
the reef, and evidently going over the details of how he came
ashore from the _Wetherall_, and where the bark struck.

Doc stood near by, listening, and kicking the sand with one foot.
Jarrow made a gesture to him, and the steward went back to the boat
and brought a bucket, which he began to fill with sand close to the
water's edge.

Jarrow put his hands up to his face, to make a trumpet, and called
loudly for "Mr. Peth" several times. His voice was thrown back from
the hill over the water in long-drawn echoes that died away in the
murmur of the gentle surf breaking on the other side of the point
and along the backbone of the main reef.

"For all the world like paging a gorilla," chuckled Locke. They
went aft and stood by Marjorie, and Shanghai Tom looked out from
the cabin door, white-capped and white-aproned, and a trifle bored.

Jarrow moved up nearer the rim of the jungle, and was rendered
almost invisible to those on the schooner against the glittering
white sand.

Doc put his bucket in the boat, and stood by the bow, looking after
the captain. Once he turned toward the schooner, and waved his
hand. Dinshaw was moving toward the point slowly, head bent, making
a careful examination of the shore, stooping now and then to pick
up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers.

"Look--over beyond Captain Dinshaw--in the brush!" said Marjorie,
pointing.

A figure in blue emerged cautiously from the tangle of green
shrubbery some hundred yards to the right of Jarrow--Peth, in a
suit of dungarees. He stepped out into the sand and stood with his
arms akimbo, w