Mayo pulled in his rope hand over hand with frantic haste. He was obliged to free the broken stake from the noose and pull his extemporized lasso into position again. He made a wider noose. His failure had taught a point or two. He waited till the boat was on the top of a wave. He curbed his desperate impatience, set his teeth, and whirled the noose about his head in a widening circle. Then he cast just as the boat began to drop. The rope encircled the stake, dropped to the water, and he paid out all his free cable so that a good length of the heavy rope might lie in the water and form a makeshift bridle. When he snubbed carefully the noose drew close around the stake, and the latter held. The waves which rode under them were terrific, and Mayo's heart came into his mouth every time a tug and shock indicated that the rope had come taut. However, after five minutes of anxious waiting, kneeling in the bow, his eyes on the cable, he found his courage rising and his hopes glowing. “Does it mean--” gasped the girl, when he turned and looked at her. “I don't know just what it will mean in the end, Miss Marston,” he said, with emotion. “But it's a reprieve while that rope holds.” Bradish sat clutching the gunwale with both hands, staring over his shoulder at the waters frothing and roaring on the shore. The girl glanced at him occasionally with a certain wonderment in her expression. It seemed to Mayo that she was trying to assure herself that Bradish was some person whom she knew. But she did not appear to have much success in making him seem real. She spoke to him once or twice in an undertone, but he did not answer. Then she turned her back on him. Suddenly Mayo leaped up and shouted. A man was running along the sandy crest of a low hill near the beach. He disappeared in a little structure that was no larger than a sentry-box. “There's a coast-guard patrol from the life-saving station. There must be one somewhere along here!” The man rushed out and flourished his arms. “He has telephoned,” explained Mayo. “Those are the boys! There's hope for us!” There was more than hope--there was rescue after some hours of dreary and anxious waiting. The life-boat came frothing down the sea from the distant inlet, and they were lifted on board by strong arms. And then Alma Marston gave Mayo the strangest look he had ever received from a woman's eyes. But her lips grew white and her eyes closed, and she lapsed into unconsciousness while he folded a blanket about her. “You must have had quite a job of it, managing a woman through this scrape,” suggested the captain of the crew. “It's just the other way,” declared Mayo. “I'm giving her credit for saving the whole of us.” “How's that?” “I might find it a little hard to make you understand, captain. Let it stand as I have said it.” XXV ~ A GIRL AND HER DEBT OF HONOR