have a look at Red-beard and the other fellow," he said
suddenly. "The water might come in there and wash them off."

Dickie nodded. "I'll stay here," she said, and Gregory hurried off.

When he came back he shook his head. "Gone," he announced.

"Washed off?"

"Don't think so. The water hadn't quite got to where we left them. I
guess they sneaked."

Dickie's eyes searched the sea while he spoke.

"I can't understand what is keeping the boys from the _Curlew_," she
said. "We'd better get Tom aboard the _Petrel_ where we can make him
more comfortable. Better bring the other fellow too. There's some whisky
on the boat unless those devils have stolen it too. Hello, what's that?"

The quiet was broken by the sharp clatter of horses' hoofs. Looking in
the direction of the sound, Gregory saw a number of horsemen riding over
the crest of the bluff overlooking the cove.

The fisherman glanced toward the dory which lay on the rocks at the
extreme end of the ledge.

"Better beat it," he suggested.

Dickie Lang shook her head stubbornly. "No," she said. "We'll leave that
man here and the rest of us will get aboard. The _Petrel's_ on tide land
and I'll be damned if any one's going to bluff me out."

CHAPTER XII

A WARNING

From the _Petrel's_ sloping deck they saw the horsemen appear in bold
silhouette against the sky-line. Swinging from their saddles they walked
to meet a white-shirted rider who galloped over the ridge and drew rein
among them.

The newcomer remained astride his horse. Resting an arm on the horn of
his saddle, he stared into the little cove through his binoculars.
Satisfied apparently by what he saw, he dismounted and walked rapidly
toward the trail leading to the beach, the men following after him. As
they took their way down the cliff Gregory noticed that some of the men
carried rifles. When they reached the beach the white-shirted man walked
on alone, and without a backward glance, traversed the rocks in the
direction of the wreck.

"He walks like a king," commented Dickie Lang. "I wonder if that is
Bandrist."

Gregory noted the clean-cut figure of the stranger carefully. The man
was about his own height though of slighter build, the spareness of his
figure being emphasized by the close-fitting riding-trousers and the
thin silk shirt which fluttered about him as he strode along. The
fair-haired stranger stopped abruptly when he reached the _Petrel's_
side. Flinging an arm upward wit