“I can’t help thinking, mother, that George and Joe are right,” he said, deliberately, while poor Mrs. Warren gasped with dismay. “You wouldn’t have us play the parts of cowards while the boys may be in danger, and when we can perhaps save them. There isn’t half the danger you imagine, either. The wind is blowing now squarely from the east, and once we have beaten out of the cove we can sail alongshore without heading out to sea. “Then, too,” he continued, “the yacht is nearly new, and was fitted with new rigging this year. We’ll promise to sail only a little past the head of the island and return, or run into Bryant’s Cove and walk back. It’s no more than we ought to do for the best friends we’ve got. There’s not another sailboat in the harbour to-night that is as stiff as ours, except Jack Harvey’s, and it’s out of the question to ask him. The other boats went out to the races at Seal Harbour, or we would get Captain Sam to go in his yacht. We can’t ask Jack Harvey to go—that’s certain.” “Wouldn’t he laugh at us, though!” said George. “He would offer to tow our boat along, too, or something of that sort, just to be mean, and then there’d be a nice row.” Besieged on all sides, Mrs. Warren could but yield a partial consent. “You and George can go,” she said, turning to Arthur, “but Joe must stay with me. I can’t spare you all to take such an awful risk.” “I won’t stay!” cried young Joe, hotly. “That is to say, I—I don’t want to,” he hastened to add, as Mrs. Warren looked reproachfully at him. “They need me to help sail the _Spray_,—don’t you, fellows?” “There ought to be three to manage the boat in this wind,” said George, somewhat reluctantly. “I guess you’ll have to let him go, mother—” But at this moment there was the sound of footsteps upon the piazza. Some one walked around the house, gave a premonitory knock at the door, and let himself in. It was Henry Burns. He was equipped for the storm, in oilskins, rubber boots, and a tarpaulin hat. The water ran from his clothing in little streams and made a series of pools on the polished wood floor. Declining Mrs. Warren’s offer of a seat, on the ground that he was too wet, Henry Burns stood by the mantel near the fireplace, and, with tarpaulin removed, still looked the pale and delicate student, despite his rough garments. “Ahoy there, shipmates,” he said, with great gravity, waving the tarpaulin at the group. “You weren’t thinking of cruising for your health this evening, were you? Because, if you were, my health isn’t as good as it might be, and I think a little salt air would do it good.” “Bravo!” cried George Warren. “You might know Henry Burns would be on hand if there was any excitement going on. Never knew him to fail,—Joe, you’ll have to stay at home now and keep mother company. We don’t need more than three. Come, Arthur, hurry! We mustn’t lose a minute longer.”