er lips were firmly compressed and the little lines which suddenly
appeared about her mouth were hard. With her eyes still held by the
barnacled rocks, she snapped: "Then you may see something."

They were nearing the end of Long Point. Throttling the throbbing motor
until its soft breathing could be heard only a few boat-lengths, she
nodded to the fisherman:

"All right, Tom. She's yours. Plenty of water from here on. When you
round 'bull-nose' head for the cove with all you've got."

Relieved from the wheel she dodged into the engine-room and returned
with two rifles. Flashing a glance shoreward to determine the _Petrel's_
position she rejoined Gregory and handed him one of the guns. Gregory
reached eagerly for the weapon. For the past hour he had been forced to
sit by a spectator. Now was a chance to do something. To play a game he
knew. His fingers caressed the stock of the Winchester as the girl
exclaimed:

"Don't suppose there is any use telling you how to shoot. Only at sea
things are a little different. You have to count on the roll. Sight full
until you get on the range. Distances are deceiving on the water. Pull
on the slow rise if you can. That's when she's steadiest."

He noted her quiet manner of speaking and the businesslike way with
which she handled her gun. What she meant for him to do he did not
clearly understand. Whatever it was, she would find him ready. He
slipped a shell into the barrel from the magazine, and waited. He
noticed that the girl was watching him closely as they came to the end
of the winding channel. Then she gave him brief instructions.

"When we pass that big rock ahead we'll head in. Then you will see a
string of nets. You may see two strings, one laid around the other. If
any of Mascola's gang are hanging around I'm going to try to persuade
them to give me sea-way."

She set her lips grimly and tapped the rifle. Drawing a pair of
binocular-glasses from her pocket she focused them carefully.

"Don't shoot until I do. If they are trying to lay around I'll open up
on them and start them moving. Aim at the water-line and pump away as
fast as you like. All right, Tom. Give her the gun."

The _Petrel_ leaped under the advancing throttle and raced for the
curiously fashioned nub at the cliff's end.

Gregory crowded forward, striving to catch a glimpse of the water
beyond. As they flashed by the "bull-nose" she saw silhouetted against
the brightening light which streamed across