All this Judith remembered as she crept silently away through the darkness and turned toward the salty spray that the wind tossed in her face. That had been a phenomenally large school of mackerel--eighteen barrels for market in the distant city. Judith was not quite sure, but she thought the check that came back to father had been for a hundred and fifty dollars. Mackerel had been in great demand then. A hundred and fifty dollars! Judith stopped short and caught her breath. "But my school was just a little one," she thought, "and maybe people aren't very mackerel hungry now." Still, a hundred dollars--or even fifty--fifty dollars would go so far toward that doctor across the sea! Supposing she had lost fifty dollars! She hurried on through the black night, not knowing what she should do when she got to her destination, but eager to do something. The lantern she carried cast a small glimmer into the great dark. Judith was not afraid--how long had it been since she was afraid of the dark? But a distant thrill shot through her when she saw another faint glimmer ahead of her. Then it seemed to divide into two glimmers--they blinked at her like evil eyes. They were straight ahead; she was going toward them! She must go toward them if she went to the old dory drawn up on the beach. "And I'm goin!" Judy said defiantly. "Blink away, you old bad-y two-eyes! Wait till I get there and fix you!" It helped to laugh a little and nod defiance at the blinking eyes. The salty spray increased to a gentle rain, buffeting her cheeks. The steady boom of the breakers was in her ears like the familiar voice of a friend. Judith tramped on resolutely. The lights were two lanterns, sheltered from the wind, beside the old black dory. Judith came upon them and cried out in astonishment. For she had come upon something else--a boy, dressing fish as if his life depended on it! "Jemmy Three!" she ejaculated shrilly. The boy neither turned about nor stopped. "Hullo! That you, Jude? Got a lantern? Take that knife there an' go to work like chain lightnin'. I've filled two barrels--there isn't any time to lose, now, I tell you! Steamer's due at seven." "But--but--I don't understand--" faltered Judith. "Well, you needn't, till you get plenty o' time. Understandin' don't dress no fish." Jemmy Three, like Jem One, had missed his rightful share of schooling. "What we got to do now is dress fish." Judith went to work obediently, but the wonder went on in her mind. What did it all mean? How had Jemmy Three found out about the mackerel? Why was he down here in the dead of night dressing and packing them? By and by the boy saw fit to explain in little jerks over his shoulder. Judith pieced them together into a strange, beautiful story that made her throat throb. "Saw you had a load here--saw 'twas mackerel--knew they'd got to be 'tended to--'tended to 'em," Jemmy Three slung over his shoulder, as he worked.