ellow and the cook."

"We'll keep the cook," said Trask. "We can spare Doc Bird better."

Jarrow agreed, and suggested that he start at once, so Doc Bird was
called and told to summon Dinshaw, and they set about throwing off
the gripes of the waist boat and got it over the side with jury
tackle in short order.

"I'll take a look about and see if we can find where they made a
landin'," said Jarrow.

"You'd better come right back, this trip," said Trask. "It's
important that I get some of that sand under the microscope or cook
a little of it."

"Cook it?" asked Jarrow, puzzled.

"Certainly. I'll be able to tell in fifteen minutes whether there's
a sign of gold on that beach."

Dinshaw came out, in great glee over an immediate landing on his
island, and could scarcely be restrained from climbing over the
side and into the boat long enough to have his coffee.

As the final preparations were being made for the departure of the
boat, Marjorie appeared, clad in khaki, with a short skirt and
heavy shoes.

"I'm all ready," she cried, thinking that everybody was embarking.

"We're not going yet," said Locke. "The crew's ashore, and the
captain's going to do a little reconnoitering before we leave the
schooner. We'll go right after breakfast, though, if everything's
all right."

Doc was all agrin, and regarded the early trip ashore in the nature
of a lark, and cast aside his white coat, to help row in his
resplendent sweater, while the cook went about laying the table for
breakfast, his round yellow face devoid of any interest in what was
going on.

It was decided that Dinshaw should steer, which tickled him
mightily, and Captain Jarrow plied an oar himself.

"Keep a good look-out," warned Jarrow, as they shoved off and began
to pull toward the land.

"You bet we will," said Trask, gaily. "Don't go above high-water
mark for that sand, but fill the bucket from any dark spots you can
find."

"Captain Dinshaw'll simply die of joy," said Marjorie. "I'd hoped
we might all go together and see him land."

"You'd better put your hat on, Marge, or you'll have a skinned
nose," said her father. "We'll be right in to breakfast."

"There's some hocus-pocus about this," whispered Trask, as he and
Locke moved forward for a private talk.

"What do you make of it?"

"Jarrow's in on the deal with the crew. That's why I wanted him out
of the way for awhile so we could figure things out. I believe that
Dinshaw did hear the