"Coastguard has telephoned to Weymouth police," read the message. "There's a boat coming this way," announced Phillips. The Patrol Leader, who had been examining the motor, called back: "Where from? From Weymouth?" "No," replied the scout. "From Osmington. There are two coastguardsmen in her." Rusty Rivett showed no enthusiasm over the intelligence. He wanted the rescue of the _Olivette_ to be a Scout "stunt", and he rather resented the coastguards butting in. That meant complications. "Cheerio, my hearty!" exclaimed one of the "Bobbies", as the skiff-dinghy ranged alongside. "We'll relieve you. Jim, put these Scouts ashore in our boat." Rusty got his back up. He belied his nickname, for there was precious little oxydization of grey matter about him. "Thanks," he replied. "We're staying on board." "You'll be sea-sick for a dead cert," said the coastguard insinuatingly. "There's a bit of a lop on. Best go ashore afore you musters your bag." "I beg your pardon," rejoined Rusty politely, "I haven't a bag to muster. There's a sack on board, but that's going to be handed over to the Weymouth police." The man began to grin at the first part of the Patrol Leader's reply, but towards the end he looked decidedly glum. Unless he could persuade the Scouts to leave the vessel, he and his mate were "out of it" as far as salvage was concerned. Rusty knew that. He was determined to do the Milford Sea Scouts a good turn, which included a saving of money that otherwise would have to be paid to the Receiver of Wrecks. "You weren't born yesterday, I see," observed the coastguard caustically. "No," replied the Patrol Leader sweetly. "In 1906. But that's neither here nor there, is it?" "Are you staying on board all night?" inquired the man. "If so, like as not this 'ere boat'll drag and come up on the beach. You'd better----" "Stay where I am," interrupted Rivett. "For a little while: yes. As a matter of fact we're expecting a motor-boat from Weymouth to tow her in." The two coastguards, finding that the _Olivette_ was in no immediate danger, thereupon rowed off. As they went, the Patrol Leader overheard one remark: "There ain't no flies on that Scout, Bill. Well, jolly good luck to him, says I." Rusty repented his action. The whole-hearted opinion of the bluejacket showed that he was a good sort. "Ahoy, there!" shouted the Patrol Leader. "Come back, please." The men backed their oars and came alongside once more. "Thought better on it?" asked the one addressed as Bill. "Yes, and no," replied Rusty; "Look here: you think we're after salvage?" "Sure," said the man. "We're not," declared the Patrol Leader. "This boat belongs to the Milford Sea Scouts. She was stolen; we found her, and we mean to hand her back. Scouts do not receive rewards for doing good turns, especially to one another. And I quite see you wanted to stand in." "That's so, sir," agreed Bill respectfully.