and let the gas escape before we can do anything. Take the kid
over and give him whiskey; then come along back and bear a hand."

Wilbur had considerable difficulty in getting into the dory from the
deck of the plunging derelict with his dazed and almost helpless charge.
Even as he slid down the rope into the little boat and helped the girl
to follow, he was aware of two dull, brownish-green shadows moving just
beneath the water's surface not ten feet away, and he knew that he was
being stealthily watched. The Chinamen at the oars of the dory, with
that extraordinary absence of curiosity which is the mark of the race,
did not glance a second time at the survivor of the "Lady Letty's"
misadventure. To them it was evident she was but a for'mast hand.
However, Wilbur examined her with extraordinary interest as she sat in
the sternsheets, sullen, half-defiant, half-bewildered, and bereft of
speech.

She was not pretty--she was too tall for that--quite as tall as Wilbur
himself, and her skeleton was too massive. Her face was red, and the
glint of blue ice was in her eyes. Her eyelashes and eyebrows, as well
as the almost imperceptible down that edged her cheek when she turned
against the light, were blond almost to whiteness. What beauty she had
was of the fine, hardy Norse type. Her hands were red and hard, and even
beneath the coarse sleeve of the oilskin coat one could infer that the
biceps and deltoids were large and powerful. She was coarse-fibred, no
doubt, mentally as well as physically, but her coarseness, so Wilbur
guessed, would prove to be the coarseness of a primitive rather than of
a degenerate character.

One thing he saw clearly during the few moments of the dory's trip
between bark and schooner--the fact that his charge was a woman must
be kept from Captain Kitchell. Wilbur knew his man by now. It could be
done. Kitchell and he would take the "Lady Letty" into the nearest port
as soon as possible. The deception would have to be maintained only for
a day or two.

He left the girl on board the schooner and returned to the derelict with
the axes. He found Kitchell on the house, just returned from a hasty
survey of the prize.

"She's a daisy," vociferated the Captain, as Wilbur came aboard.
"I've been havin' a look 'round. She's brand-new. See the date on the
capst'n-head? Christiania is her hailin' port--built there; but it's her
papers I'm after. Then we'll know where we're at. How's the kid?"

"She's al