re; but she saw what happened, as she explained it to
me, and she knew you wouldn't stay long," explained the old sailor.

"But why didn't she speak to us?" pouted Cleo.

"Guess she thought it was safer to let you get off quietly as you got
on," replied the Captain, and his deep set eyes wandered out over that
familiar sea, although his audience wondered what ever he could see
there to hold his attention after so many years of watching.

"I think she might have trusted us," said Helen, showing something like
resentment.

"It likely was not that," the captain assured the girls. "She'd trust
you, I'm sure, but she might not trust others," he finished
mysteriously.

They seemed further than ever now from their purpose. The captain was
rather reticent, though usually so genial, in fact, for the first time
the scouts felt as if their visit might not be entirely welcome.

Could he be displeased with them? The language of their glances asked
that question plainly.

"But we did have the awfulest time," Louise broke the awkward silence.
"Captain, it's lovely to sail, and our Blowell was like a sea queen,
until we struck that sand bar, then she stuck like--like the Brooklyn
Bridge, not a thing could move her. We did break a couple of oars trying
to pry ourselves loose, but a sand bar is a mighty power when you hit it
wrong side up," finished Louise, proud of her attempt to interest the
rather silent captain.

"Anything wrong, Captain?" Grace asked, with her usual directness. "You
look worried."

"Maybe I am a bit," he admitted. "But nothing very serious," and he made
his pipe serve to emphasize the fact.

"Could we help you?" inquired Helen simply.

The old sea man smiled and reached over to pat her shoulders. She was
sitting on the steps, and he sat just above in the hickory arm chair.

"I've been tryin' to figure out who might help me," he replied finally,
"and I've about concluded you little girls would be as safe as anybody.
And queer thing, too--" he went on. "You're the first--who ever offered
to help old Dave, though many a one _he_ has pulled out of that briny."

The girls moved closer to the hickory chair. Not one felt she could
break that spell by speaking.

"But it will be quite a story," continued the captain, "and it is nigh
on to eight bells now. Suppose you come around here this afternoon after
your swim--no, best after dinner," he corrected himself. "The men have
to eat on the stroke of twelve, th