“He’s a coward, besides being a cad,” involuntarily flashed through Frank’s mind. Then he made the launch swerve, and shouted to the occupants of the motor boat: “All ready!” Frank, with his experience of the past, calculated so nicely that the launch came alongside the burning motor boat at precisely the right angle to allow the man in charge of the latter craft to grapple with a boat-hook. “Quick, Mrs. Carrington,” he spoke to the older lady, “get aboard the launch as fast as you can.” The woman’s girl companion helped her get to her feet, but she pitched about so that but for a clever movement on the part of Frank she would have gone into the water. “Oh, dear! oh, dear!” she screamed, but with the aid of the younger woman Frank managed to get her into the launch, where she dropped in a heap and went into hysterics. Her companion got aboard more quietly. “You are just in time,” gasped the man in charge of the motor boat. “Don’t risk the flames, but pull away.” “Yes, there is nothing to be done in the way of putting out the fire,” said Frank. The man he spoke to was both worried and in pain. His face and hands were blistered from his efforts to shield his passengers from the fire. Just then a howl rang out. It proceeded from the fellow thirty feet away, bobbing up and down on the empty box. This brought the older woman to her senses. “It is Peter!” she screamed. “Oh, save Peter!” The paltry Peter began bellowing with deadly fear as the launch was headed away from him. Frank could not feel very charitable toward a fellow who, in the midst of peril, had left friends, probably relatives, to their fate. However, he started to change the course of the launch, when Pep, swinging one arm over the other in masterly progress like the fine swimmer he always had been, crossed the bow of the craft. “I’ll take care of him,” shouted Pep to Frank, “and here’s Randy in the skiff.” Frank saw Randy making for the spot, and as Pep grasped the side of the floating box the skiff came alongside. “Hold on! Stop that other boat,” blubbered the young fellow. “I want to go ashore in a safe rig; I want to get to my aunt.” “What did you leave her for?” demanded Pep, firing up. “Huh! Think I want to get drowned?” whimpered the other. Pep helped the scared youth into the skiff, drew himself over its edge, and directed just one remark to the rescued lad. “Say!” he observed, indignantly. “I’d just like to kick you.” CHAPTER III SHORT OF FUNDS Frank drove the motor launch shoreward with accuracy and speed. The stout lady had shrieked and acted as if half mad until she had been assured that Peter was safe. She had to see with her own eyes that Peter had been pulled into the rowboat with Randy and Pep. Then she collapsed again.