“Three of you went forth. Where is the third?” inquired Mabel. “Have you thrown him to the sea-god to propitiate him?” Tom set down the basket he carried, but did not answer for a moment; then he burst out with, “That Reed Marshall is the darndest fellow!” “What’s he done now?” came in a chorus. “He’s taken the rowboat and is on his way back to Beatty’s. While we were gathering up the baskets and things he slyly cut loose and made off before we could stop him. I shouted to him to come back, but he said we must stand by; that he’d take word to Mrs. Truesdell and Miss Crump, tell them you all were safe, and that he’d be back with help as early in the morning as possible.” “But is it safe for him to go so far, and at night?” asked Ellen tremulously. “It’s a pretty long pull, but he has the grit to make it. He’s strong and has some top piece. He’ll put it across if any one can, but I did hate to see him go off alone; it didn’t seem fair.” “Why didn’t you go with him, Alvin?” Hettie spoke up sharply. “Mr. Clayton has just told you that he was off before we knew it, and when we tried to argue with him he said it wasn’t worth while for more than one to take the risk.” Ellen gave a quick gasp and clutched Mabel, who gave her hand an answering pressure. Mrs. Olmstead, as usual, had recourse to tears. “Alvin, you’re an idiot,” said Hettie crossly. “Reed’ll make it; I should worry,” insisted Tom. “Now all of you try to get a little sleep, if you can. Alvin and I will keep watch.” It was little sleep any one had that night, resting on the strewn branches and beds of dry leaves. It grew very cold before morning, so that Ellen realized why Reed had given her his coat. She drew a long quivering sigh and offered up a silent prayer for his safety. It was a relief when dawn came. One by one crept out of the cabin, and stole down to the rocks to gaze over the rose-flecked water and catch the first glimpse of an approaching boat. At last a small, dark speck appeared. It came nearer and nearer, steadily heading toward them. “Ahoy there!” cried Tom on the outmost edge of rock. “Ahoy!” came back the answer. A few minutes later the boat was near enough for them to recognize its occupants, but Reed was not one of them. CHAPTER XIX AN INHERITANCE Every one crowded around as the boat drew up and two men jumped out. “Are you from Beatty’s Island?” inquired more than one. “Right you are,” was the reply. “Young man came in along about three o’clock, been rowing pretty near all night, he said; was nigh all in, got off his course, kinder foggy for a time, but he got back again. Beats me how he done it, not being used to these waters, but he said he knew which way the wind blew,—lots of sense he had,—and steered according. I take off my hat to a landsman that could make his way in the dark like that. Of course any of us men could do it, being as much at home on these waters as ashore.”