“I never would have believed it possible in the time,” I replied, in genuine admiration. Then I nodded forward to where Stevens was superintending the construction of the scissorlike arrangement of spars with which he purposed to restep the sticks. “A mighty good man that, Mr. Stroth,” I added. “I’m beginning to think so,” was the serious reply. “It won’t be as long a job as you first thought, will it?” I inquired. “Not by a jugful! Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if we could shake this mooring by day after to-morrow! Yes, Stevens is a gem!” At this point the little captain himself strode back and joined us, just as I was remarking: “The hobby again, Mr. Stroth,” with a nod toward the camera. “Why, yes, indeed,” he replied. “I thought it would be pretty good to have a half dozen or so snaps at the old _Ruby Light_ in the hospital. I’m going to get some more to-morrow, just as the work’s beginning. We’ll develop them together, if you like.” “Nothing I’d like better!” I replied. At the time I simply couldn’t make head or tail to the look of displeasure, coupled to what was almost fear, that Captain Stevens shot at me. But he didn’t offer a word in explanation as we filed on down the steps to supper. Oddly enough, it was not until the following night that I gave second thought to that account I had read of our accident in the paper the coast guard had dropped. I don’t believe I should have reverted to it seriously, even then, if something of a kindred nature hadn’t happened. Stroth, as he had promised, had spent the day, joyous as a boy, at his picture taking; but along about four o’clock he had filled his entire reel. And it was just at this time that Stevens was about to dispatch a couple of the crew in the dory launch. It seems there was a broken turnbuckle or two to be replaced, and there was no risk in thus sending the fellows ashore to a chandler’s; particularly as they would return after dusk. Stroth heard the order, and added one of his own. “And, lads,” he called to them, above the engine’s first sharp barkings, “you might bring me all you can get of to-day’s papers.” The cheery “Aye, aye, sir!” spoke well for their affection for their chief. Immediately thereafter Stroth left us for the cabin. At his disappearance, Stevens turned to me. “Then you aren’t going with him?” he asked sharply. “With him--where?” “To the dark room.” “Why, no--if that’s where he’s bound--I guess not. I suppose he forgot the invitation.” “Maybe so,” said Stevens meaningly, though I invited no confidences. That night there were again but three of us at the supper table; but this time it was Stroth that was the absentee. Stevens seemed particularly preoccupied, and left the conversation to Stella and me; but we managed not to miss his share overmuch. I leave the reason to the acute to fathom. Supper cleared, the girl and I tackled cribbage. Incidentally, she played an abominable game, though I wouldn’t admit it.