there anything?" asked Phil, with interest.

"We'll dump you out and make you walk ashore," she added, treating his
remark with the haughty disdain it deserved.

"It's a long way to shore," said Phil, with a rueful glance over his
shoulder. "Give me one more chance, fair damsel, and I will promise never
to offend again."

"Oh, if I could only believe him!" said Jessie, prayerfully.

Lucile laughed and flipped a salt drop toward the offending Phil. "You
mustn't be too hard on him, Jessie," she remonstrated. "You know, he
really might be worse."

"Thanks, sweet sister," said Phil, gratefully.

By this time the little launch had noisily chug-chugged its way among the
various craft, small and large, and had finally come to a standstill
beside a beautiful boat, upon whose bow and stern was engraved the name
"Vigil."

The Applegates, proud owners of the "Vigil," crowded eagerly to the rail
to welcome their guests.

"Oh, I'm so glad you could come," cried Mrs. Applegate, as Phil and Mr.
Payton climbed the short ladder preparatory to helping the women folk on
board. "The Dickensons and Archie Blackstone--we came over with them, you
know--are on board."

There was an enthusiastic meeting between the fellow-voyagers, for they
had formed a sort of mutual-admiration society while on board the
"Mauretania" and were only too glad to come together again.

While their fathers and mothers were talking, the young folks had seized
upon the opportunity to look about them. They were just at the height of
this delightful process when Mrs. Applegate hailed them.

"Don't you girls want to come down in the cabin and take your wraps off?"
she called.

"Surely; we're coming right away," Lucile answered for them.

"Why do you have to fix up any?" protested Archie. "You look just fine
just as you are. What's the use of wasting an hour?"

"We're not going to fix up," denied Lucile; then added, "It won't take us
an hour, anyway. We'll be back in five minutes."

"Oh, how I'd like to believe you!" said Archie, as they disappeared down
the companionway.

"Get out your watch," challenged Lucile. "I'll wager a pound of my
home-made fudge against a pound of Huyler's that we'll be back before the
five minutes are up."

"If I were you, Arch," said Phil, loudly, for the benefit of his sister,
"I'd rather lose than win," which was treated with a laugh of merry
derision.

CHAPTER XIX

THE BREATH OF THE WAR GOD

The girls prove