back against the cabin, sat down, looking pale, but not unhappy.  Molly, who happened to be on the bow of the boat, was so indignant with him that she told him he ought to have a guardian, and then went below and brought back an armful of pillows and cushions, with which she proceeded to make life a burden to Dick.  Then, as she seemed about to go away, Dick began to talk to her about the old plantations on the river and tell her the ghost stories that belonged to them, until she sat down near him.  “I hope you don’t think I was rude about Tom?  I was only—­” But Molly interrupted him.

“You need to be good and strong before I tell you what I think of that.”  And the girl walked away from him so indignant that she didn’t return for nearly two minutes.

As the launch neared the mouth of the river a yawl-rigged craft with an auxiliary engine had just entered it.  Her captain was sitting on deck with his right hand grasping the wheel, his body leaning forward, rigid as bronze, while his roving eye scanned water and sky, reefs, banks and keys.  A roll of the wheel, and the launch darted toward him.  When within a hundred yards the whir of the big engine and the chugging of the two-cycle motor of the yawl stopped, and as the boats were passing each other, Mr. Barstow hailed the skipper of the yawl.

“Oh, Captain Hull!  All’s well.  The boys have been found.  Spread the news.  Hunt up the other boats and all hands report to me at Myers.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” came from the bronze statue, and the chugging and the whirring began again as the yawl resumed its course, while the launch wove in and out among the oyster reefs, that guard the mouth of the river, at a speed that would have torn the propeller out of her had she struck one of them.

Dick’s eyes sparkled as the Gulf opened out, and the launch turned down the coast to clear the bar before making her course.  Before him were the waters where the waterspout destroyed the Etta; the Shark River bight was near, and in the distance the cocoa-palms of the Northwest Cape could be made out.  He turned eagerly to the girl beside him, and was telling her the story of the waterspout when Mr. Barstow came to them and said: 

“Run away, little girl, I want to talk to Dick.”

“So do I,” said Molly as she made a little face at her father, who laughed at her.

“You mustn’t think you own Dick.  Go play with Tom, there.  He looks pretty amiable just now.”

“But he won’t let me play with Tom.  He’s mean about that.”

Dick began to explain, but the girl had gone.

“What are your plans for your future, Dick?” asked Mr. Barstow.

“I am going home and going to work at anything I can find to do.”

“How would you like to work for me?”

“I don’t know of anything else in the world I would like so well.”  And Dick fairly beamed.

“Then, if the work suits you, your engagement will date from to-day.”