The dwellers of the Sound Country are early risers. For this reason, Ethel Marion was up and dressed next morning earlier than ever before in her life. The dawn was just breaking when breakfast was announced. One of the buxom girls came to offer her services in dressing the invalid stranger. Then she was assisted to the porch for a breath of the early morning air, and she exclaimed in delight over the splendid view there unfolded. Far off to the eastward the sun was just climbing up from behind a sand dune on the Banks. For miles up and down the coast the broken sand hills ran in a line north and south, trending the horizon. These showed free from any vegetation except the scrub growth at their base and the sand of them shone under the rays of the rising sun like molten silver. In the foreground were the blue waters of the Sound now dimpling under the caressing touches of a gentle breeze. Here and there showed high lights from the whitecaps that stood out as souvenirs still of the storm that had passed. Off to the right of the small bay upon which the house was built, a tangled mass of evergreen shrubs offered a vivid note in the color scheme. These were the undergrowth of the huge forest trees, of which the limbs were almost hidden by the clinging wreaths of mistletoe.

The esthetic sense of Ethel was touched to the deeps by this vista of beauty round-about. No wonder that the dwellers in this blessed region lived contented in youth, maturity, and old age. She wondered, rather, that anyone could be cross or ill tempered or evil in any way within the environment of a nature so benign.

She was reluctant when Miss Goodwin gently led her away from the panorama of beauty toward the more sordid pleasure of the breakfast table. As she went, Ethel offered a silent and most devout prayer of gratitude for her preservation and for the kindness she had received from Doctor Garnet and these strangers, whom just now she was very near to loving.

Had it not been for the wish to appease the anxiety of friends at home, Ethel would have been content to remain long in this wonder spot, among a people so simple, so different from those to whom she had been accustomed, who were so little acquainted with the manners and the fashions of a so-called higher society. But, breakfast over, she was the first to suggest that it were best to leave this remote settlement, with all its charms of scenery and the compelling attractiveness of its homely goodness. The nerve-racked Garnet also was anxious to depart. He had rested comparatively well after the excitement and strain of the previous day, and now to an eye not too critical he would have seemed quite normal. Yet, a certain wildness in the expression of his eyes had not wholly disappeared. Now that Ethel was herself again, she perceived that there was something radically wrong with the man. Naturally enough, she attributed this condition on his part to the worry over her welfare, and she even experienced a feeling almost like remorse that she should thus unwittingly have been the cause of suffering on his part.

The Goodwins urged them to remain for a longer rest, but they abandoned their hospitable efforts when Ethel pointed out the necessity of at once relieving the anxiety of her friends concerning her safety. They provided, however, an ample amount of food to be carried by the voyagers, which would suffice them until they reached a town on the coast to the northward, and the entire family went down to the wharf to wish them God-speed.

As the party approached the landing, the attention of all was called to Shrimp, who hitherto had been neglected. He came walking proudly along the beach toward them from the pier. When the physician explained that the rooster was a pet, the Squire hurried back to the house and returned quickly with a small package of corn. A moment later, the launch was again in motion, while those on shore waved their adieux with handkerchiefs, to which Ethel replied in kind.

Ethel was eager in her praise for every member of the family that had shown them such kindness and hospitality.

"Oh, Doctor," she exclaimed, "just as soon as the new yacht is built, the very first cruise shall be a visit to this beautiful spot. Father must know these plain people who have been such life-savers to us. You, too, Doctor Garnet, shall be one of the party. We'll see if we can't devise some scheme by which to repay them for what they've done."

The physician made no reply. He seemed indeed to be wholly absorbed in meditation. But he aroused with a start from his reverie at the girl's next question.

"Doctor, you know a woman's inquisitiveness! Last night you bade me be patient, and said that after a while you would tell me the whole story of this unfortunate affair. Now, I simply must ask you just one question. Will you answer it?"

"I'll try, Miss Marion," was the answer, given with an air as nonchalant as he could assume.

"Where are the villains who took part in this affair? Did they go down with The Isabel, or did they escape, and are they still at large?"

Garnet looked the girl straight in the eye as he replied in a tone of the utmost sincerity.

"The arch-conspirator escaped. He is probably being hunted by the best detectives in the country. He is sure to be captured eventually, dead or alive."

"Thank you, Doctor," Ethel said gratefully. "And in proof of my thanks, I won't trouble you any more on this subject, which seems to worry and annoy you. Of course, I don't know what dreadful things you were obliged to go through with in order to save yourself and me from harm. Really, I'm not surprised that you don't wish to talk about it. But I do hope they catch the guilty man and punish him as he deserves—hang him, perhaps."

The physician winced at the innocent remark, and vouchsafed no reply.

The launch sped on and on. The wind increased in some degree during mid-forenoon, as is usual in southern waters at this season of the year. But the little craft was staunchly built, and by taking advantage of the headlands she made fairly good progress.

Garnet was beginning to suffer again from lack of the drug. Ethel had not as yet seen him use the hypodermic needle, nor did he care to have her. But by rapid stages his desire reached such a point that he must either have the relief of morphia or go mad. Then his cunning brain suggested that it would be easy enough to deceive this guileless girl. So he boldly told her that he was in a highly nervous state and suffering as well from a splitting headache, and that, therefore, he deemed it advisable to take a small injection of morphia, which would undoubtedly relieve him.

Ethel had not the faintest idea that this learned man, of such eminence in his profession, was, in fact, a drug fiend. She had no suspicion of the truth even when she saw the point of the hypodermic syringe penetrate the skin of his forearm. She merely admired the graceful, deft movements of the long and slender fingers.

Nevertheless, the girl could hardly fail to note the change that came almost immediately over the man. Now he became again his usual self, with little, if any, trace of nervousness, with the manner that was affable and sympathetic.

It was a half hour later when Ethel, ever alert, noticed a fisherman's boat laboring clumsily down the Sound. In years agone, it had been equipped with a sail, but now it chugged away industriously under the energy of a wheezing gasoline engine. There were several persons aboard—three men, two women and a baby in arms. During her first glance at the ungainly-looking boat, the beat of the engine ceased, and it was evident from the actions of the man who busied himself with the machinery that the motor had balked. As the launch drew nearer, the girl saw that those in the broken-down craft were in a state of consternation, with their attention centered on the child. She cried out in wonder to the Doctor.

"What in the world can be the matter in that boat? It must have something to do with the baby."

Garnet answered without hesitation.

"Yes, Miss Ethel, I've been watching, and there is certainly something seriously wrong. I'll go close enough to hail them."

The men in the fishing boat began to wave their hats as distress signals, and the Doctor nodded and raised his hand as a signal that he was coming.

When the launch came within hailing distance, one of the men shouted out an explanation. The propeller had become entangled in a piece of floating net, and so rendered useless. The party came from the Tournequin Bay section, where an epidemic of diphtheria was raging. This baby had not improved under the "granny" treatment of the neighborhood, in which there were no doctors. In consequence, it was now being taken to Beaufort to receive the antitoxin—that new remedy for which such miracles were claimed. Even as the man was speaking, the baby was seized with a fit of strangling that brought it almost to the point of death.

Came a transformation scene. Here was no longer Garnet, the crazed drug fiend. In his stead was revealed the man and the physician—he who in times of distress and suffering had always given his services to the best of his ability. In this moment the old instinct rose dominant. He called to them in a loud clear voice.

"I am a physician. If you will permit me I'll come aboard and try to give temporary relief. Something must be done promptly, or the child will die."

In order to save Ethel as far as possible from any danger of contagion, Garnet brought the launch alongside the stern of the fishing boat, since the baby was in the bow. As he stepped aboard the other craft he bade one of the men let the launch drop back astern to full length of the painter. While this was being done, the physician, medicine case in hand, hurried to the child that lay struggling spasmodically in its mother's arms. An instant of examination showed to Garnet's practiced eyes that the throat was almost completely filled with the membrane characteristic of the disease, and that it must be only a matter of minutes before suffocation would ensue unless effective measures for relief were taken. A glance to the shore two miles away told him that the delay in reaching it would prove fatal to his patient's chances. It was evident that if the baby's life were to be saved he must act—and act now. Nor did he hesitate. With lightning-like rapidity he took out his emergency kit of surgeons' tools. He bade the most intelligent-appearing of the men hold the child according to his precise directions. Then, with his coat off and shirt sleeves rolled up, Doctor Garnet braced himself in the tossing boat and performed the operation of tracheotomy, while the mother crouched weeping and praying with her face hidden in her hands.

Presently, the sufferer grew quiet, for now it was able to breathe again. Thanks to the great skill of this man, once again a life had been saved.

The parents of the child were profuse in the expressions of heartfelt gratitude. They would have given what little money they had to this savior of their child. But Garnet, of course, would take no fee for his services. He diverted the chorus of thanks by offering to take in tow the disabled fishing boat and bring it to the shore, whence means could be secured for their going on to Beaufort. He insisted that in spite of what he had done, the baby should be taken to the town, in order to receive treatment with the antitoxin.

Throughout all the scene, Ethel had watched the physician with eyes in which shone pride and affection. It seemed to her that this man was one who fought always to relieve distress according to the best measure of his strength.

"He has succored me," she mused with a warm glow in her heart.

"He is taking me to my home—to Roy. He has stopped only long enough to rescue another sufferer from the jaws of death—even as he rescued me. He is a hero."