He darted for the boat and threw himself into it, seized a spare oar and pushed off frantically. "Pull,--pull like hell," he yelled. They needed no second bidding, for they shot out into the Bay as if a thousand devils were after them. I turned to ascertain who my deliverer could be; and there, on the beach, only a few yards away, stood Mary Grant with a serviceable-looking revolver held firmly in her right hand. "What? You! Mary,--Mary," I cried in an agony of thought at the awful risk she had run. "Are you all right, George?" she inquired anxiously. "Right as rain," I answered, hurrying to her side. "Did they get Jake's trunk away?" "No! The low thieves! It is lying there in the water. Do you think you could help me up with it?" She caught up the trunk at one end, while I took the other. And we carried it back between us to Jake's cabin. Poor old Jake! I could hardly smother a smile as I saw the dejected figure he presented. His grey hair was drooping over his forehead, every line in his face showed a droop, and his long, white moustache drooped like the tusks of a walrus, or like the American comic journals' representations of the whiskers of ancient and fossilised members of the British peerage. He was sitting bound, as the robbers had left him. I cut him free and he staggered to his feet. He was sober as a jail bird, and, excepting for his broken lip and chafed wrists, he was, to all appearances, none the worse for his experiences. It surprised me to notice how little he seemed interested in the recovery of his money. All his attention and sympathy were centred on the wretched dog, Mike, who was slowly getting over the clubbing he had received and was whimpering like a discontented baby. Mike had a long gash in his neck, evidently made by one of the robbers with Jake's bread-knife. Mary washed out the wound and I stitched it up with a needle and thread, so that, all things considered, Mike was lucky in getting out of his encounter as easily as he did. As for the crack I had received over the head, it had made me bloody enough, but it was superficial and not worth worrying about. I decided I would not leave Jake alone that night and that, as soon as I had seen Mary safely home, I would return and sleep in his cabin till morning. "When you come back," said Jake gruffly, "bring ink and paper with you. I want you to do some writin' for me, George." I laughed, for I knew what was in his mind. As Mary and I wended our way back through the narrow path, in the dead of that moonlight night, the daring and bravery of her action caught me afresh. How I admired her! I could scarcely refrain from telling her of it, and of how I loved her. But it was neither the time nor the place for protestations of affection. "How in the world did you happen to get down there at the right moment?" I asked. She gave a quiet ripple of laughter. "I couldn't sleep and I was up and standing at the window----"