Rob, taking his place at the wheel. "Now, then, Merritt, start
up that engine."

"Hold on a minute!" shouted Tubby. "We forgot the dog."

Sure enough, Skipper was dashing up and down the wharf in great
distress at the prospect of being deserted.

"Put yer boat alongside that landin' stage at the end of the
wharf," suggested his master. "Skipper can get aboard from
there, I reckon."

Rob steered the Flying Fish round to the floating landing, to
which an inclined runway led from the wharf. Skipper dashed down
it as soon as he saw what was happening, and was waiting, ready
to embark, when the Flying Fish came alongside.

"Poor old Skipper, I reckon yer thought we was goin' ter maroon
yer," said Captain Job, as the animal jumped on board with a bark
of "thanks" for his rescue. "I tell yer, boys, I wouldn't lose
that dog fer all the money in Rob's father's bank. He keeps
good watch out an the Island, I'll tell yer."

"I didn't think any one much came there, except us," said Rob, as
the Flying Fish headed away from the wharf and began to cut
through the waters of the inlet.

"Oh, yes; there's others," responded the old man. "That Jack
Curtiss lad and his two chums are out there quite often."