Part 15 (2/2)

Not one of them knows how to start the engine. Girl called Marian told me so. And in such a storm! Got to make sure though! Got to get all the evidence I can!”

Again he fought his way against the wind until he came to the point where the heavy blocks had held in place the wheels of the truck beneath the O Moo. These had been fastened by strong cleats. Hard, silent work had been required to loosen them. Throwing the light upon the blocks, he examined them carefully.

On the side of one he discovered a peculiar mark. The wood, flattened out under pressure for a s.p.a.ce of some four square inches, was raised in the very center in two narrow lines, each an inch long. These lines crossed one another.

”Take it home. More evidence, perhaps.”

Having fought his way up to the place where the cable had been fastened he examined the loosened end without discovering anything peculiar about it.

”That's all I can do here,” he decided. ”Now for the rescue. Got to have help. Old Timmie's not much good--too old. Fishermen all gone up the coast to fish through the ice. c.h.i.n.ks all there are left. Make 'em help undo what they've done. If they won't come, I'll fetch 'em!”

During a lull in the storm he returned to his schooner. There he deposited the ”evidence,” then throwing a small, cloth-strapped case over his shoulder and thrusting a bottle into his pocket he again ventured out into the storm. This time he turned his face toward the scow inhabited by the Orientals.

Hardly had Florence, standing by the side of Lucile's berth, hurled out her fiery denunciation of the wretch who had cast their yacht afloat than the O Moo gave a sudden lurch which threw her to the floor.

Pandemonium broke loose. There came a crash of gla.s.s from the laboratory.

Out of the darkness a bulk loomed at her. As she attempted to rise the thing appearing to spring at her, knocked her down. Then some other thing buried her deep.

The thing that had struck her was a heavy chair. She was buried beneath the blanket and mattress from her own berth.

As she attempted to extricate herself it seemed that the entire contents of the cabin played leapfrog over her head. Careening like a deserted airs.h.i.+p the O Moo appeared to plunge prow first down an endless abyss, only to climb laboriously up on the other side.

This did not last for long. There was no engine going, no driving power.

Suddenly she slipped into the trough of a huge wave and wallowed there helplessly, while tons of rus.h.i.+ng water swept across her deck.

”The engine!” gasped Florence. ”It should be started.”

Struggling to free herself, she thought of Lucile.

”May have been thrown from her berth,” she groaned.

Groping about she found Lucile's berth, clung there while the yacht gave a wild, circling lurch, then felt for her sick companion.

Clinging to the rail of her berth, Lucile lay there silently sobbing.

Securing two blankets, Florence twisted them into ropes, then bound them across Lucile, one at her knees, the other at her chest.

”That'll hold you,” she whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

Starting across the cabin to the electric switch, she was caught again and thrown off her feet. She collided with something. That something put out two arms which encircled her. The two of them fell to the floor, then rolled half the length of it.

Having regained her breath, Florence put out a hand. She touched a garment. She knew by the feel of it that it was Marian. ”Thank goodness!”

she said, ”you're still here--and alive.”

In the midst of all this catastrophe, Marian began to giggle. ”It's too absurd!” she exploded. ”I've traveled on the Arctic and Pacific, real oceans, and come here and have a mere lake kick up such a rumpus!”

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