A white gull circled near them, and the whirring of its wings made Polly open her eyes.

“A great gull!” she whispered, then, oh, the joy in her cry: 

“‘The Dolphin!’ ‘The Dolphin!’”

Rose scrambled to her knees.

“Oh, it is!  It is!  Dear Uncle John!” she cried.

It was a quick turn from terror in the little boat to joy and safety in the big yacht, with Uncle John, big, brave Uncle John, to care for them.

“You must tell me all about this,” he said, when they were once aboard the yacht, “but not a word until after we’ve had a wee lunch.”

The steward brought dainty sandwiches, cakes, fruit and hot chocolate, and the happy little trio enjoyed it heartily, partly because it was a delicious spread, but far more because of their feeling of safety after their terror.

The children had been frightened, but bright, cheery Uncle John had suffered more than he would have admitted when, through his powerful glass, he had seen the two little occupants of the rowboat crouching close together, rocked at the will of the waves and going steadily out to the open sea.

He knew that it would take but a short time to reach them, but would they remember what he had so often told them?

If they should change places in the boat and thus capsize it, no yacht could reach them in time to save them!

Now, with Polly and Rose beside him, safe and sound, he felt as if a heavy cloud had lifted.

After the lunch had been enjoyed, Uncle John asked for the story of their plight, and together they told it, telling of the start with Donald, of his sullenness, his anger, and his muttered threat.

“I don’t know surely, truly, what he said, but I thought he said: 

“‘I’ll get even with them,’ and Polly thought so, too,” concluded Rose.

“And after he’d said that, he wouldn’t talk at all,” said Polly.

“And we thought he’d fastened the boat when we saw him hitching one end of the chain to the big ring,” said Rose, “and he waded out to the shore, and ran off up the beach with another boy.”

“We shouted to him, and told him not to stay long, but he didn’t answer, and didn’t look back, but just kept on running until he met another boy, and then they ran away together,” said Polly.

“The other boy had a fishing pole,” added Rose.

“Oh, he did, did he?” said Uncle John, “well, I wouldn’t be surprised if young Donald had a fishing outfit tucked snugly away in some cranny in the rocks, where he doubtless found it after he left you.”

“What would have happened to us if you hadn’t found us?” said Rose.

Uncle John Atherton’s brown eyes were not twinkling as he turned to reply, and Polly thought she saw a tear on his lashes.

His arm tightened about Rose, and he drew her closer.

“I don’t like to think what might have happened to you two little friends, alone on the open sea.  I shall settle with Donald later,” he said.