Captain Ichabod managed to bring the skiff up under the lee of the wreck. He threw a rope to the man, and bade him make it fast. The order was obeyed. Ichabod then directed the yachtsman to collect his valuables and come aboard the skiff. The castaway lost no time in obeying. Presently, carrying a small black bag, he seated himself in the skiff, and Ichabod turned the boat's nose toward the shore, and bent to the oars, in haste to get back to his patient, and so to complete his list of rescues for that eventful day. During the short interval of time consumed in going from the wreck to the Island, the stranger made anxious inquiries as to the fate of the girl. He had thought that she was dead. When he heard from Captain Ichabod that the girl still lived he was obviously startled and surprised, but, too, he showed every symptom of intense pleasure. He displayed anxiety as to what the girl might have said. Then, when he learned that she had said nothing at all, he appeared greatly relieved. He seemed pleased to learn that she was still unconscious. Ichabod, wonderingly, thought that he heard the stranger say: "Thank God!" The boat was no sooner beached than the man who had been rescued leaped ashore, still carrying in his hand the small physician's bag. He raced toward the cabin, as if he felt that life or death depended on his haste. Captain Ichabod suddenly felt very old and worn. He had used too much energy in this work of rescue, and now the reaction set in. He dawdled over the securing of the skiff. Then he made his way with lagging steps toward the cabin. He pushed open the door, and was startled to behold the man he had rescued kneeling beside the couch of the girl. At the noise of the opening door, the man sprang to his feet.... Ichabod wondered as he glimpsed an object that shone like silver, and then was slipped cautiously into the man's coat pocket. Captain Ichabod approached the bed upon which the girl lay motionless. He noticed on the forearm a tiny drop of blood. He wondered also over this, then solved the puzzle to his satisfaction by thinking that a mosquito had left this trace of its attack. He was confirmed in the opinion by the fact that there was a white blotch beneath the touch of crimson. Captain Ichabod tried to question the man he had saved, but found every answer baffling and unsatisfactory. The yachtsman refused any sort of information. His reticence angered the old man, and he at last spoke his mind freely, with something of suspicion engendered by a new thought concerning that curious drop of blood on the girl's arm. "She acts ter me like a woman chuck-er-block with Bateman Drops or opium. A heap o' that kind o' truck is used by the women about these-here islands o' the Sound, an' I've seed a heap o' the effects o' it in the years past, but the good Lord knows it's a spell since Captain Icky has seed a _woman_ a-hitten dope, as new-fangled folks calls it."