For some moments the Scouts watched in silence the tedious progress of the broken-down motor-boat. They could see the two rowers glancing frequently over their shoulders, as if gauging the distance that remained between them and the beach. Presently the rowers found themselves on the fringe of the light ground-swell that was breaking upon the shore. Here they lay on their oars until the towed craft ranged up alongside the dinghy. Then, jumping on board the motor-boat, the pair proceeded to anchor. "Here, you fellows!" exclaimed Phillips. "She's the _Olivette_. I can see the name distinctly now. Doesn't she belong to the Milford Sea Scouts? We read her log last year." "Perhaps she isn't that _Olivette_," objected Thurgood. "She looks like the drawing in the log," persisted Phillips. "If she is," said the Patrol Leader, "there don't appear to be any Sea Scouts on board. You've struck a false trail, Phillips." John wasn't at all sure that he had. Being of an observant nature, and fairly smart at making feasible deductions, he wasn't going to abandon his theory until he was firmly convinced that his reasoning was at fault. He said nothing, but thought the more. Meanwhile, one of the men had jumped into the dinghy and was holding her alongside. The other fellow went below, presently to reappear with a canvas sack. This he lowered into the stern-sheets of the dinghy, and casting off the painter, rejoined his companion. After about twenty strokes the rower rested on his oars and said something to his chum, who was sitting on the dinghy's transom with his feet resting on the canvas sack. Apparently they did not like the aspect of the surf, for the fellow aft pushed the sack under the stroke thwart, and lowered himself on the stern bench. With that the rower gave another glance shoreward over his shoulder, spat on his hands, and began pulling his hardest. The dinghy rode the breaking swell in capital style until her forefoot touched the beach. Smartly the two men sprang out, knee deep in water, but they were not quick enough. Before they could haul the dinghy clear of the waves a sea poured over her quarter. "Scouts to the rescue!" shouted Rivett. There was no hanging back. Simultaneously the lads swung themselves over the shelving cliff, dropping or sliding from ledge to ledge; then, gaining the beach, they ran at top speed to the assistance of the two strangers. The Scouts were hardly prepared for what happened next. The two men, after gazing dumbfoundedly for a few seconds at the apparition of seven active youngsters racing towards them, suddenly took to their heels and fled. Checking his first impulse to follow in pursuit of the two men, Rusty Rivett halted his charges. Though the running figures appealed to the Scout's instincts much in the same way as a startled hare does to a dog, there was, after all, no justification for the chase, since no reason was apparent why the men should take to their heels.