"I do," says Vee. "I learned in Bermuda one winter. I have coffee and sandwiches here. They'll be hungry." "Better put in some cigars for Mr. Ellins," says I. "If he's run out of smokes I'd rather not find him." "Get cigars, then," says she. "I have the small launch all ready." "How about taking one of the crew?" I suggests. "Bother!" says Vee. "Besides, they've seen sharks and are all frightened. I'm not afraid of sharks." You bet she wasn't; nor of being out at night, nor of startin' a strange engine. You should have seen her spin that wheel and juggle the tiller ropes. Some girl! "Got any clew as to where they are?" I asks. "Only the general direction they took," says she. "But something must be done. Think of Auntie being out at this hour! When we get past those little islands we'll begin blowing the horn." It was sort of weird, take it from me, moseyin' off that way at night into a tangle of islands without any signs up to tell you which way you was goin', or anybody in sight to ask directions of. The moon was still doin' business, but it was droppin' lower every minute. Vee just stands there calm, though, rollin' the wheel scientific, pickin' out the deep water by the difference in color, and lettin' the _Agnes_ fade away behind us as careless as if we had a return ticket. "Excuse me for remarkin'," says I; "but, while I wouldn't be strong for this sort of excursion as a general thing, with just you and me on the passenger list I don't care if--" "Blow the horn," cuts in Vee. Yep, I blew. Over miles and miles of glassy water I blew it, listenin' every now and then for an answer. All I raised, though, was a bird squawk or so; and once we scared up a flock of white herons that sailed off like so many ghosts. Another time some big black things rolled out of the way almost alongside. "What's them--whales?" I gasps. "Porpoises," says Vee. "Keep on blowing." "I'll be qualified as captain of a fish wagon before I'm through," says I. "Looks like that explorin' trio had gone and lost themselves for fair, don't it?" "They must be somewhere among these islands," says Vee. "They couldn't have gone out on the Gulf, could they?" We asked each other a lot of questions that neither one of us knew the answer to. It sort of helped pass the time. And we certainly did do a thorough job of paging, for we cruised in and out of every little cove, and around every point we came to; and I kept the horn goin' until I was as shy on breath as a fat lady comin' out of the subway. It was while I was restin' a bit that I got to explorin' one of the boat lockers, and dug up this Roman-candle affair that Vee said I might touch off. And it hadn't burned half way down before I spots an answerin' glow 'way off to the left. "We've raised someone, anyway," says I. "We'll know who it is soon," says Vee, turnin' the wheel. Five minutes later and we got a reply to our horn--four long blasts.