DESPITE the nerve and body-racking experiences of the day before, Howard was up and on deck the next morning at the first peep of day, straining his eyes for sight of Jackson and the Joyces. The need for instant action was strong upon him. He did not doubt that Forbes had sent the snake upon him, just as (judging from Mother Joyce’s tale to Dorothy) he had before sent it against one of Prudence Gallegher’s ill-fated husbands, and he only wondered that the doughty captain had not followed up the attack. “I suppose the fellow didn’t know how devilish near he came to succeeding,” he muttered to himself grimly. “But he’ll bring his men next time, and we must fight or get out of his reach in a hurry. If Jackson and the others were only here!” But neither Jackson nor the Joyces were there. Strain his eyes as he might, Howard could see no moving figures anywhere on the wreck-pack, and, with an anxious sigh, he turned away to inspect the scene of the last night’s encounter. Half submerged in the weed at the foot of the sloping deck he made out the great body of the snake, terrible even in death, and shuddered as he thought of what would inevitably have been his fate had Dorothy been less courageous or the iron stanchions been less honestly wrought; these last, bent almost double, gave mute but effective evidence of the mighty power of the reptile. Wishing to save Dorothy, as far as he could, from all reminders of the contest, Howard lowered himself to the water’s edge and poked the snake down beneath the weed; then he climbed back to the taffrail and again searched the horizon for sight of Jackson. This time his quest was successful. Approaching over the wreckage, quite near at hand, were four figures. As they drew nearer he recognized Jackson, the minister who had married him the day before, Mother Joyce, and his jailer of the day before. Each of the men carried several rifles over his shoulder, and was girt about with belts of cartridges. Mother Joyce bore a less and indeterminable weight. At Howard’s call, Dorothy came on deck to greet the newcomers. Rosy and smiling, with head erect and sparkling eyes, she looked little like the woebegone maiden who had answered Forbes’s call the day before. Mother Joyce’s sharp eyes quickly spied the difference. “Holy mither! What’s this?” she cried. “And was it you, miss, that didn’t want to marry at all, at all? And was it you that was so sure that you and Mr. Howard could niver be anything to each other? Faith, look at the bright eyes and the blushing cheeks of her! Sure, Tim, man, it carries me back forty years, so it does!” With a fond look she turned to the man beside her. “Thrue for you, Kathleen, darlint,” he replied. “The top of the mornin’ to you, ma’am, and may you live a million years and have a hundred----” “Arrah! Be still with your foolishness, Tim. Sure, you make the young lady blush.”