She crawled over to the stern locker and hunted for the field glasses. As she adjusted them she stood in the boat and scanned the western horizon. Finally she concentrated her gaze on a section of the inlet near the pine bluff. “No. He isn’t in the marshes. Even with the wind taking the sound from us, the bluff must be a sort of sounding board to throw it back.” “We’ll have to be careful—wind’s blowing from us to him,” cautioned Brad. She let Brad have the glasses and he watched while Beeson towed the barge to the dock. “Uncle Mose is already there to carry the food scraps up to the hogs,” he explained as he watched. “Can you see anything that looks like supplies for the Germans?” she asked. “Not at this distance.” He handed her the glasses and she watched until Beeson went stomping up to the house in his knee boots. Great masses of purple clouds boiled in the western sky, while the tall marsh grass lay almost level under the rushing wind. “We’d better beat it for home!” exclaimed Kitty. “Looks to me as if this is turning to a hurricane.” On the Gulf coast she had often seen storms come up like this in a very short time. “There was a hurricane reported south of here—guess we’re getting an edge of the gale,” said Brad. They debated whether to return to the inlet with which they were familiar, but decided the safest course would be to follow the marshy creek, even thought it might take them longer to get home. Brad still had the little map which he had sketched in his billfold. They studied that, trying to figure out the most direct route back to Palmetto Island. “This creek swings round mighty close to Mangrove Island,” Kitty said dubiously. “That’s better than going too close to Terrapin Island.” Acting upon their decision they picked up their oars again. They were now moving against the force of the rising tide and found progress slow. They made several elbow turns and eventually found themselves close enough to Mangrove Island to make a landing, if they had so desired. “I’ve wanted to explore it ever since you boys told me about seeing the boat in the mangroves on the other side,” Kitty said. “No time to explore now,” Brad stated rather shortly. “If I ever get you out of this saboteurs’ nest I’ll never bring you into the marshes again—till the war’s over.” Kitty laughed. “I’m not afraid, Brad. What’s there to be afraid of now?” Even as she spoke there came a pinging sound, piercing and sharp above the howl of the wind. Almost simultaneously Brad groaned and slapped his hand to his shoulder as he toppled backward into the bottom of the boat. The oar slipped from his limp fingers and bobbed off on the tide. “Lie down, Kit! Lie down!” he ordered even as he fell. “Brad, are you hurt?” she wailed. With his right hand he seized her arm and pulled her to the bottom of the boat beside him. The hand was wet with blood from the wound in his shoulder. “He got me all right. But keep low! Don’t lift your head above the gunwale.”