Silently he turned back to the others. Porter had swung the launch around and was heading toward the distant lights of Evanston. The girl was peering in the direction whence came the sound of the receding boat. Thus, for some time they remained silent. At last the girl broke into a laugh. It was a rippling, silvery laugh, expressing an infectious appreciation of the humor of their situation. Orme chuckled in spite of himself. If she could laugh like that, he need not stay in the dumps. And yet in his mind rankled the sense of failure. He had made a poor showing before her--and she was laughing. Again the corners of his mouth drew down. "I suppose the notion _is_ amusing," he said--"a cowboy at sea." "Oh, I was not laughing at you." She had sobered quickly at his words. "I shouldn't blame you, if you did." "It is the whole situation," she went on. "And it wouldn't be so funny, if it weren't so serious." "I appreciate it," he said. "And you know how serious it is," she went on. "But truly, Mr. Orme, I am glad that we did not damage that boat. It might have been terrible. If he had been drowned----" her voice trailed off in a faint shudder, and Orme remembered how tired she must be, and how deeply disappointed. "Now, Girl," he said, bending over her and speaking in a low voice, "try to forget it. To-morrow I am going after the papers. I will get them." She looked up at him. Her eyes were softly confident. "I believe you," she whispered. "You never give up, do you?" "No," he said, "I never give up--when I am striving for something which I greatly want." There was meaning in his voice, though he had struggled to conceal it. She lowered her eyes, and said no more. Slowly the lights of shore grew brighter. After a time Orme could distinguish the masses of trees and buildings, grayly illuminated by the arc-lamps of the streets. He spoke to Porter in an undertone. "Can you land us some distance south of the life-saving station?" he asked. "Sure. I'll run in by the Davis Street pier." "I'll be obliged to you," Orme sighed. "I made a bad mess of it, didn't I?" "Oh, I don't know," replied the life-saver. "We got the lady." Orme started. "Yes," he said, "we got the lady--and that's more important than all the rest of it." Porter grinned a noncommittal grin and devoted himself to the wheel. They had saved the girl! In his disappointment over the escape of the Japanese Orme had forgotten, but now he silently thanked God that Porter and he had come out on the water. The girl had not yet explained her presence in the boat. In her own good time she would tell him. But she had been there under compulsion; and Orme shuddered to think what might have happened.