“Visitors from the shore, captain?” he inquired, a pleasant smile illuminating his clean-shaven, sun-browned face.

“That’s what they are,” rejoined the captain, “just dropped in on us, don’t you know.”

“You mean we dropped in on them,” amended the other with a laugh, “come here, Harry,” he called, raising his voice, “we’ve got some company out of the fog.”

In response to his call a lad about the age of Rob appeared from the after-end of the ship, where the cabins were, and greeted the boys with a smile and a nod.  He, like his father, wore a sombrero and was quite as sunburned.  For the rest he was well-knit and athletic looking and had evidently lived an out-door life.

“Well, we are getting plenty of experiences away from the ranch, eh, Harry?” observed his father, after the boys and the captain had introduced themselves and there had been a great and ceremonious hand-shaking all round.

“We just naturally are,” responded the rancher’s son.  “Say, captain,” he went on, “when do you expect to get off ?”

“If we are not too badly hung up we ought to get off at high-water,” rejoined the Britisher.

“That won’t be till late to-night,” observed Rob.

“If I could only get a tug we might do better,” observed the captain, “in fact, since I’ve had the engines going I don’t think we can back off under our own power.”

“Have you got a wireless?” asked Hiram, his pet subject uppermost.

“Yes, but our operator went ashore in London and I guess he had too good a time; anyhow he never showed up so we had to cross without one.”

“Is she working?” asked Hiram interestedly.

“Sure, there’s plenty of ‘juice’ as the operators, call it.  I tried to work it coming over,” laughed Harry, “but outside of getting a proper shock, I didn’t do much.”

“I’ll send out a signal for a tug,” said Hiram quietly, “there’s a station at Island.  They’ll pick up the message and transmit it.”

“What—­you can work a wireless?”

“A little bit,” said the lad modestly.

“Come on, I’ll show you the way,” said the delighted captain, starting off with Hiram, and followed by the others.

“Say, don’t think it personal of me, will you?” remarked Harry Harkness to Rob as they followed, “but would you mind telling me what you all are wearing those uniforms for?”

“Why, we’re Boy Scouts,” rejoined Rob proudly, and went on to explain just what the organization is.

“Say, that’s great,” exclaimed Harry enthusiastically, “I’d like to form a patrol out at Lariat.  Do you reckon I could?”

“I don’t doubt it,” rejoined Rob, smiling the Western enthusiasm.

“By cracky, I’ll do it,” went on Harry Harktess, “I’ll make it a mounted patrol and if we don’t get old ‘Silver Tip’ then, besides all the other sport we’ll have, call me a coyote.”

“Who or what is old Silver Tip?” asked Rob, somewhat interested in his breezy new acquaintance.