Andy turned around, to make a quick run toward the ship, when he heard the scratching of a match. A tiny flash of flame followed, and in that little flare of light he saw the crazed sailor bending over what looked to be a can of oil! "He is going to set something on fire!" thought Andy. "Maybe the storehouse! That's his crazy idea of getting light!" Andy was right, Loggermore was trying to set fire to the storehouse. Already he was pouring oil from the can over a number of boxes, the ends of which formed that side of the shelter. "If I run to the ship, it will take time," reasoned Andy. "By the time I get back with some of the others it may be too late. What shall I do?" It was a hard question to answer. He had no desire to tackle the crazy sailor alone. But even while he stood debating with himself he saw Loggermore strike another match. "Stop! Don't light that, Loggermore!" So shouting, Andy leaped toward the man, who was still crouched down, mumbling to himself about wanting a light. At the sound of the youth's voice, the sailor turned, and something like a snarl broke from his lips. "Go away! Go away!" he shrieked. "Loggermore, you mustn't set anything on fire." "I want light! I must have light! I hate the darkness!" growled the crazed sailor. "You'll burn up all our stores. If you do that, we'll starve to death!" continued Andy, as he drew closer. "I want light!" went on Loggermore, doggedly. "The darkness hurts my head--I can't think straight. Stand back and see what a fine light I'll soon have!" And so speaking, he lit another match, for the other had fallen in the snow and gone out. "Help! help!" yelled Andy, at the top of his lungs. He could think of nothing else to do. "Help! help!" "Shut up!" cried the crazed sailor. "Shut up!" And now, dropping the match he had just struck, he leaped at Andy and caught him by the shoulder and the arm. The grip of the crazy fellow was like steel, and do his best, the boy could not break away. Pep Loggermore whirled him around and sent him crashing up against the boxes of the storehouse. There both stood, panting heavily, with the sailor's eyes glowing like two balls of fire. "Le--let me go!" gasped Andy. "Loggermore, you are crazy--you don't know what you are doing. Don't be so foolish, that's a good fellow----" "No, no, I'll not let you go! You are a Jonah, Andy Graham! You shot the geese, you and that other lad, and you've brought us all kinds of trouble! I'll not let you go!" shrieked Loggermore and then he slammed Andy against the boxes once more. The feet of both came down on the can and on the box of matches the sailor had dropped, smashing each down into the ice and snow. Then suddenly a light flared up, coming from the broken box of matches. They spluttered an instant and set fire to the oil, and also to the clothing of the man and the boy. Loggermore was too crazy to mind this, but Andy was filled with horror.