The black clouds were now chasing one another across the sky, and the
wind made a curious whistling noise. Nevertheless the boat was sailing
gloriously, and in spite of the oncoming squall Tom and Madge were
enjoying themselves immensely, though neither of them was much pleased
with their fellow traveler.

The stranger turned to Madge. "You must tell your friend that he'll
have to land me somewhere else than in that picnic party," he muttered
hoarsely. "I tell you I have a reason. I do not want to meet any
society folks."

"I am sorry," answered Madge distantly, her eyes growing stormy at the
young man's peremptory tone. "Mr. Curtis explained to you why we are
in a hurry to land. As long as he took you aboard our boat with us as
a favor, you have no right to ask us to change our course."

The stranger clenched his fists and glanced angrily at Tom.

"Ain't you going to land me somewhere else first?" he demanded in a
snarling voice.

Tom quietly shook his head. The sailboat was now only a little more
than half a mile from the pier. The wind was fair, blowing them almost
straight to the pier.

Tom Curtis was not looking. Suddenly the fellow sprang up and threw
the tiller over. The boat jibed sharply. Madge cried out in quick
alarm. Her cry saved Tom Curtis from being knocked overboard by the
boom as it swung over to the other side of the boat.