"How does it smell?" asked the young millionaire, holding it toward the old salt. "It certainly do smell like it," further confessed Widdy. "It _is_ it!" insisted Dick. "Now the crew will have some for supper to-night, and I guess you fellows will admit that I can make a sailor's plum pudding as good as the next one." With a smile of triumph at his chums, Dick advanced toward them, bearing the smoking platter. He was going to display the duff to them, but, as he neared the rail, the yacht lurched, and Dick gave a little jump to retain his balance. The platter tilted. The plum duff began to slide off. "Look out!" shouted Frank Bender, making a spring toward Dick. "I've got it!" cried the millionaire's son. He tried to straighten up, and, at the same time, keep the platter on a level keel. A moment later, before the eyes of all his chums, the elaborate concoction slid off the big plate, over the yacht's rail, and splashed down into the sea. "Plum duff overboard! Plum duff overboard!" yelled old Widdy, stumping forward and catching up a coil of rope on the way. "Plum duff overboard! Lower a boat!" "Well, split--my--lee--scuppers!" exclaimed Dick, slowly, as he peered over the side. "Wouldn't that frazzle your main topsail!" CHAPTER XII SAVED FROM THE SEA For an instant after Dick's disgusted exclamation no one spoke. Then Paul, with a regretful sigh, remarked: "It certainly smelled good." "It _was_ good," declared Dick. "I put twice as much stuff in it as was necessary." "Maybe that's what was the trouble," suggested Henry Darby. "Likely it was topheavy, as I once had a load of old iron, and it overbalanced." "Well, I like your nerve!" spluttered the young millionaire, with a show of pretended anger. "Comparing my plum duff to a lot of old iron! It was Frank Bender's fault that it was lost overboard." "My fault?" demanded Frank. "How do you make that out?" and he leaned far over the rail, to look back toward where the plum pudding had disappeared in the ocean. "Your fault--yes!" repeated Dick. "But look out, or you'll go overboard, too. If you hadn't made that jump for me, when you did, I'd have managed it all right. It's up to him, fellows! Frank's to blame!" "I am like pie!" cried the acrobatic lad, turning a handspring to calm his excited feelings. "Of course, it's your fault," added Paul, with a wink at the others. "Sure," came from Henry. "Maybe it was Grit's fault," suggested Tim Muldoon, gently, for he wasn't quite sure whether Dick and his chums were in earnest or not. "I saw Grit trying to wag his tail, just as the puddin' went overboard." "Tim, you've solved the mystery!" declared Dick. "It _was_ Grit's fault. Grit, you old sinner, don't you know any better?" and the dog leaped about joyously, barking in delight at the fun and excitement.