"Hark, Tom!" cautioned Harry. "You mustn't talk like that."

"I'm going back to finish my cooking," announced Arnold. "We'll all be
hungry enough to eat a raw dog. And speaking of dogs," he continued
pointing at the white bulldog still holding his position at the pilot
house window, "what's the matter with Rowdy?"

"Rowdy scents something he doesn't like," explained Tom.

"I wonder," began Jack and then without finishing his half begun
sentence he dashed madly from the pilot house and flung himself into the
bow of the yacht now gaining headway under the impetus of the engines.
Flat on deck he fell and crawling to the rail peered eagerly over the
side. His friends saw him turn an agonized and pleading glance in their
direction and then reach far over the rail of the vessel. In an instant
Tom and Harry were by his side eager to be of any possible assistance to
their chum.

"What is it?" began Tom, but Harry motioned him to silence.

"Sit on his legs!" he commanded and Tom with a flash of comprehension
obeyed unquestioningly. His weight on Jack's feet enabled the captain to
lean far over the rail and grasp the wrists of a clinging figure
gripping with the tenacity of despair the links of the cable that still
hung from the hawse pipes.

Harry, too, leaned far out and in his eagerness to be of help nearly
lost his balance and all but plunged into the sea.

"Steady!" gasped Jack. "Slow and steady now or he's gone!"