for business, now, old chap," she said to him. "It's time for
your act." And, climbing on his back, she bent low over his neck and
urged him forward with a cluck and a poke.

But Sandhelo chose this crisis to indulge in a return of his artistic
temperament. Not an inch would he budge. "What shall I do?" wailed
Katherine, when all her clucking and prodding had been in vain.

"Try riding him backward the way you did that day in the circus,"
screamed Sahwah.

Katherine whirled around on her stubborn mount and unexpectedly gave his
tail a smart pull. With a snort of indignant surprise Sandhelo threw out
his legs and started forward. Katherine caught her balance from the
shock of starting, clamped her knees into his sides and hung on grimly
to the blanket that had been strapped around his middle to keep the
balsam boughs from pricking him.

Never was there a more grotesque ride for life. Instead of the beautiful
heroine of fiction galloping on a noble steed here was a lanky girl
riding backwards on a temperamental trick mule, hanging on as best she
could, holding her breath as he pounded along in the darkness, expecting
every moment that he would go down under her and praying fervently that
he would not take it into his head to stop. But Sandhelo, under the
impression that he was running away from something, kept on going from
sheer fright, and as his early life had been spent waltzing on a
revolving platform, he was able to keep a footing where any other steed
would have broken his legs.

He would not even stop when they came to the life-saving station, and
Katherine had to roll off as best she could, landing in the sand on her
face.

"Whoa, there!" shouted half a dozen voices, and the surfmen who stood
anxiously waiting for the return of the patrol caught his bridle and
brought him to a standstill. Katherine panted out her message, and then
refusing the invitation of the keeper to go inside the station, she
followed the crew as they dragged the beach wagon to the point on the
shore opposite the wreck.

From their various shelters along the way the rest of the Winnebagos
came out and joined her, all eager to see the work of rescuing the
stranded passengers.

Hinpoha exclaimed in dismay when the small cannon was brought out and
aimed at the ship. "They're going to shoot the passengers!" she cried,
clutching the Captain by the arm.

"No, they aren't," the Captain assured her hastily. "They're going to
shoot the l