buffeting with such waves as were now rolling.

Dave Darrin, meanwhile, held on to the tiller and the paid-out sheet,
ready to manoeuvre the now pitching, rolling boat at an instant's notice.
It took all his seamanship to keep the craft afloat, though the sailboat
was far better modeled for such water than the motor launch had been.

"Give her over to me, and save yourself," commanded Dalzell cheerily, as
he reached Tom Foss. "Think you can make it, old fellow?"

"If I can't, I ought to drown," retorted Tom Foss, as he struck out, none
too strongly. "This is all my fault. You fellows gave me better advice
than I had sense to follow."

Dan, with a skill that he had acquired directly from the excellent
instruction given him by the swimming master at the Naval Academy, was
now piloting the unconscious form of Susie Danes toward the sailboat.

Even encumbered as he was, Dan made the boat before Tom Foss could
accomplish that feat alone. Truth to tell, Foss was very nearly "all in."
Had rescue been delayed a few moments longer, Foss and his fair companion
must have sunk.

"Get hold of her, Davy," called Dan, as he ranged up on the weather side
of the tossing boat.

Darrin promptly leaned over and lifted the unconscious girl into the
boat. By the time he had done that Tom Foss reached up both hands,
seizing the boat's stern.