the sky and then swept down upon
the sea, hunting them out of the darkness like a great relentless eye.

The "Flitter's" boats were in the water and manned by sturdy oarsmen
before the glad cry went up that the robber fleet had been discovered.
They were so near the yacht that it was evident the dusky tribesmen
were poor oarsmen. In the clear light from the ship's deck they could
be seen paddling wildly, their white robes fluttering as though
inspired by fear. There were four boats, all of them crowded to the
gunwales.

"Keep the light on them, captain," shouted Monty from below. "Try to
pick out the boat that has Miss Gray on board. Pull away, boys! This
means a hundred dollars to every one of you--yes, a thousand if we have
to fight for her!"

"Kill every damned one of them, Mr. Brewster," roared the captain, who
had retired behind a boat when he became aware of the presence of women
on deck.

Three boats shot away from the side of the yacht, Brewster and Joe
Bragdon in the first, both armed with rifles.

"Let's take a shot at 'em," cried a sailor who stood in the stern with
his finger on a trigger.

"Don't do that! We don't know what boat holds Peggy," commanded
Brewster. "Keep cool, boys, and be ready to scrap if we have to." He
was half mad with fear and anxiety, and he was determined to
exterminate the bands of robbers if harm came to the girl in their
power.

"She's in the second boat," came the cry from the yacht, and the
searchlight was kept on that particular object almost to the exclusion
of the others. But Captain Perry saw the wisdom of keeping all of them
clearly located in order to prevent trickery.

Brewster's brawny sailor boys came up like greyhounds, cheering as they
dashed among the boats of the fugitives. Three or four shots were fired
into the air by the zealous American lads, and there were loud cries
from the Arabs as they veered off panic-stricken. Monty's boat was now
in the path of light and not far behind the one which held Peggy. He
was standing in the bow.

"Take care of the others!" he called back to his followers. "We'll go
after the leaders."

The response from behind was a cheer, a half dozen shots and some of
the most joyous profanity that ever fell from the lips of American
sailors, mingled with shrieks from the boats they were to "take care
of."

"Stop!" Brewster shouted to the Arabs. "Stop, or we'll kill every one
of you!" His boat was not more than fifty feet from t