The sailor fought his way to the surface with the girl, and Brewster was at his side in an instant.  Together they supported her until one of the boats came up, and they were drawn over the side to safety.  By this time the abductors had scattered like sheep without a leader, and as there was no further object in pursuing them the little American fleet put back for the yacht in great haste.  Peggy was quite conscious when carried aboard by the triumphant Brewster.  The words he whispered to her as she lay in the bottom of the boat were enough to give her life.

The excitement on board the “Flitter” was boundless.  Fear gave way to joy, and where despair had for a moment reigned supreme, there was now the most insane delight.  Peggy was bundled below and into her berth, Dr. Lotless attending her, assisted by all the women on board.  Brewster and the sailor, drenched but happy, were carried on the shoulders of enthusiastic supporters to a place where hot toddies were to be had before blankets.

“You have returned the favor, Conroy,” said Brewster fervently, as he leaned across the heads of his bearers to shake hands with the sailor who was sharing the honors with him.  Conroy was grinning from ear to ear as he sat perched on the shoulders of his shipmates.  “I was luckier than I thought in saving your life that day.”

“It wasn’t anything, Mr. Brewster,” said young Conroy.  “I saw a chance to drop the big nigger, and then it was up to me to get her out of the water.”

“You took a big risk, Conroy, but you made good with it.  If it had not been for you, my boy, they might have got away with Miss Gray.”

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Brewster, it was nothing to do,” protested Conroy in confusion.  “I’d do anything in the world for you and for her.”

“What is the adage about casting your bread upon the water and getting it back again?” asked “Rip” Van Winkle of Joe Bragdon as they jubilantly followed the procession below.

There was no more sleep on board that night.  In fact the sun was not long in showing itself after the rescuers returned to the vessel.  The daring attempt of Mohammed’s emissaries was discussed without restraint, and every sailor had a story to tell of the pursuit and rescue.  The event furnished conversational food for days and days among both the seamen and the passengers.  Dan DeMille blamed himself relentlessly for sleeping through it all and moped for hours because he had lost a magnificent chance to “do something.”  The next morning he proposed to hunt for the sheik, and offered to lead an assault in person.  An investigation was made and government officials tried to call Mohammed to account, but he had fled to the desert and the search was fruitless.

Brewster refused to accept a share of the glory of Peggy’s rescue, pushing Conroy forward as the real hero.  But the sailor insisted that he could not have succeeded without help,—­that he was completely exhausted when Monty came to the rescue.  Peggy found it hard to thank him gently while her heart was so dangerously near the riot point, and her words of gratitude sounded pitifully weak and insufficient.