lvet-shod automobiles and clanging cars; hotel
lobbies and theaters and restaurants alive with men and women who had
never stooped to toil; all the luxury and glare and glitter that wait
upon modern wealth. This was what he was fitting himself for. What did
it all amount to?

He opened his eyes and came back to the little boat, rocking gently on
the undulating swells; to the lonely glory of the peaceful ocean, arched
by the starry sky. A light breeze was beginning to blow from the
southwest, dispersing the thin silver mist that overhung the water.

Percy glanced at his watch; it was quarter past ten, almost time for the
ebb to cease and the flood to begin.

Should he keep on or go back? He must decide quickly. Already his arms
were tired, and he was more than two miles north of the island. The
longer he delayed his decision the harder would be his pull against the
flood if he turned.

Minutes passed as he pondered, barely dipping his oars. It was slack
tide now and the pea-pod just held her own. Down on the breeze floated a
distant, melancholy note, the voice of the whistling buoy south of
Roaring Bull Ledge, two miles from Isle au Haut. Was it an invitation or
a warning?

Slowly at first, then faster, the stern of the boat swung round. The
tide had turned. The flood would carry him north with but little effort
on his part. Should he let himself go with it?

Percy's indecision vanished. The tide of his own life had turned, like
that of the ocean; slow and doubtful though the change had been, the
current was at last setting the other way. Grasping the oar-handles
tightly, he whirled the head of the pea-pod southward and started again
for Tarpaulin Island.

XII

PULLING TOGETHER

The next hour and a half was anything but fun for young Whittington. His
mind was set on reaching Camp Spurling before the hands of the
alarm-clock came together at midnight. At any cost he must be in his
bunk before the others woke.

It was a long, hard row, a battle every second with the tide running
against him with untiring strength. It demanded every ounce of energy
Percy possessed. His back complained dully. His arms felt as if they
would drop off. Time and again he decided that the next stroke must be
his last, that he must lie down in the bottom of the boat and rest; but
each time he tapped some hitherto unknown reservoir of power within
himself, and kept on pulling.

With the stern demand on his physical forces a c