ith two men, in charge of the yacht. Make sail and stand off
and on within easy hail of the ship."

As soon as the Lieutenant had departed, and Billy Barlow had carried out
his instructions, the naval cadet was overwhelmed by a torrent of
questions from the bewildered Rangers.

Why did he call this yacht _Blue Billow_ when her name is _Whisper_? How
did a man-of-war happen to be sent after her? How did you know where to
find us? etc., etc.

"Because," answered Billy Barlow, laughing, "she belongs to Admiral
Marlin, who has only just built her. He named her after your play, which
he happened to see in Chester; and when she was reported stolen, we got
orders to keep a lookout for her during our cruise down the Sound. We
heard of you yesterday evening from several yachtsmen, who had
recognized your flag; but thinking you were a lot of pirates, had no
desire for a closer acquaintance. It's big luck, though, that I happened
to be along to identify you, for our first luff is in a towering rage at
your supposed insult in telling him to whisper when he hailed you."

The yacht was shortly hailed again, and ordered to follow the _Bancroft_
to the vicinity of the island on which the Rangers had so recently
camped, and which, to their great surprise, they now learned was not
more than a couple of miles away.

As they sailed toward it, with Billy Barlow at the wheel, he asked Will
Rogers how it happened that he had been trying to sail close hauled with
his centreboard up.

"Why," replied the Ranger Captain, "I never thought of that, and don't
believe I should have known what to do with it if I had, for, you see,
the _Millgirl_ didn't have any centreboard, and so we didn't learn about
it."

"Which shows," remarked Billy Barlow, sagely, "that it isn't safe to go
to sea, especially in command of a vessel, without a previous and pretty
extensive experience in various styles of craft."

"And after you've got your extensive experience, perhaps you won't ever
want to go to sea again," laughed Will Rogers. "At any rate, that's the
way I feel now."

"I don't care whether you call it extensive experience or sea-sickness,"
chimed in Mif Bowers, "but I know I've had enough of it to last me a
lifetime."

"Last night I promised myself that if ever I set foot on dry land again
I'd stay there, and I mean to keep my promise, too," announced Cracker
Bob Jones, with an expressive shake of the head.

"I think," said little Cal Moody, "tha