Linda and Dot stood still on the deck of the old boat, grasping the rail with their hands, and looking intently at their rescuer. He was a typical old seaman, with tanned, roughened face, a gray beard, and kindly blue eyes.

"That was a narrow escape," he remarked. "What do you girls mean by going out on a rough sea like this, in a shell like you had?"

"We couldn't help it," Linda replied. "And we thought the boat was safe. We didn't know it was going to spring a leak.... Would it take very long to run us to the coast, Mr.—Captain——?"

"Smallweed," supplied the man. "And everybody calls me 'Cap'n'."

"Well, would it, Captain Smallweed?" repeated Linda, amused at the name. He ought to be at home on the island they had just come from, she thought—there were so many "small weeds" growing there!

"Too long fer me to stop," he replied, to the girls' dismay. "I got to get back to my family, in Havana." His blue eyes twinkled. "Why? What have you girls got in that bag, that's so important to deliver in a hurry?"

"You think we're boot-leggers!" laughed Dot. "Don't you, Captain?"

"I wouldn't be surprised at anything," he answered, smiling. "I've seen just as nice lookin' girls as you——"

"I'm afraid we're not very nice looking," sighed Linda, surveying their drenched, bedraggled clothing. "But we're really not boot-leggers.... We want to get back so that we can telephone to our families. They probably think that storm was the end of us."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I can't go off my course. Like to, if I had the time——"

"Well, if you can't, you can't—that's all there is to it," said Linda, philosophically. "We're glad to be alive at all, and I don't suppose a couple of days will make any difference."

"How long do you think it will take you to get to Cuba?" put in Dot anxiously. There was no use fussing, of course, but she could not forget that her mother and father would be frantic by this time.

"I'm reckonin' on dockin' at Havana the fourth of July. This is only the first, but these are stormy seas, and we have to expect delays.... Now come on inside, out o' this drizzle. You girls are drenched—I'll have to give you the only cabin I got. To get yourselves dry in."

Stooping over, he picked up Linda's tool-box, and finding it heavy, eyed it suspiciously.

"You girls gangsters?" he asked, unexpectedly. "Got any guns on you?"

Both girls felt themselves growing red at this accusation, yet they could not deny it wholly.

"That box has the tools in it which I used to fix up the engine of the motor-boat," Linda finally explained. "And you can take our word that we're not gangsters."

But they were exceedingly nervous as they followed the Captain to the cabin where there were two bunks, one on top of the other. Suppose he should decide to search them—and find not only the two revolvers, but all that money besides! He would never believe their story!

"When you get dry, I'll take you over the whole boat," he said. "I carry tobacco up the coast every couple of months. Used to have a sail-boat—that was the real thing! But this little lady's speedy—and better in a storm like we just had."

"How can we ever thank you enough, Captain Smallweed?" cried Dot, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude for their safety. "Our fathers will send you a handsome reward when we get back home."

"Never mind that," smiled the man. "I've got a girl of my own—she's married now—but she's still a kid to me, and I know how I'd want her treated.... Now, you can bolt this door if you want to, so there won't be any danger of either of the two other fellows aboard coming in accidentally—and you can get yourselves dry."

"There's—there's just one thing, Captain," stammered Linda. "We're dreadfully hungry. Could we have a piece of bread, or anything to eat?"

"You poor kids!" he exclaimed, in a fatherly tone. "Come on down to the kitchen, and you can help yourselves."

Though the food he provided was not the steak dinner they had been dreaming about on the island, it tasted good to those two starved girls. Captain Smallweed made tea for them, and brought out bread and smoked sausages, and Linda and Dot ate every crumb of the repast.

"We were marooned on an island during that storm," Linda explained. "And we have had nothing but a couple of oranges and a few crackers for two days."

"Well, you'll get a good supper," the Captain promised them. "That's why I'm not givin' you more now. I'll knock on your door about eight o'clock, if you ain't awake before then. That's when we usually eat."

When the girls were finally alone in their cabin, they gazed first at their bag of money, then at each other, and suddenly started to laugh. It was such a ridiculous situation. During those lonely days of exile on the island they had pictured their return so differently. It would be a grand occasion, with exciting telephone calls to their families, a marvelous dinner at a hotel, perhaps a radio broadcast of their safe landing! Instead of all that, here they were, stowed away in a shabby boat, suspected of crime, and feasting on stale bread and hot dogs for their banquet! Worst of all there would be three weary days of waiting before informing the world of their safety! Yet they were thankful indeed that they had been rescued at all, and by a man as kind-hearted as the old sea captain.

"I don't really think he'll bother any more about that bag," said Linda, as she took off her wet shoes. "If only we can get it back to Jacksonville safely, from Cuba! If we only had the Ladybug!"

"It's a mystery where she could have vanished to," observed Dot. "But I suppose that is a small thing, compared to saving our lives."

"You'll never go anywhere with me again," sighed Linda. "Dot!" she exclaimed abruptly, "I'd forgotten all about my job!"

"I hadn't forgotten I was to start back North today," remarked the other girl. "Jim Valier was going to motor over and meet me at the station when my train came in."

"Poor Jim!" sighed Linda, little thinking that the young man had no intention of doing that. "He'll have a good wait. But Jim can always sleep, on any occasion."

"I guess he won't expect me.... We must be reported as missing by now—in all the newspapers."

"Of course. I'd forgotten...."

The girls wrapped themselves in blankets and slept the rest of the afternoon, to waken in time to see the sun, which had appeared at last, just setting over the sea. Their clothing was still damp and disheveled, but they put it on and went up on deck to hunt their benefactor.

"We want you to let us cook," announced Dot, as she spied him. "We insist on making ourselves useful."

The man smiled pleasantly.

"All right," he agreed. "You can—tomorrow. But supper's ready now. Come on down."

They followed the Captain into the kitchen, where another man was placing a dish of potatoes on the wooden table, which did not boast of a cover.

"Meet Steve, ladies," her said—"my friend the pilot."

The girls nodded, and Dot asked, with anxiety, "But who's guiding the boat now, while Mr. Steve eats his supper?"

Both men laughed at her concern.

"There's another one besides us. He takes his turn, and so do I. We never all three eat or sleep at the same time."

It was a merry meal, though an exceedingly greasy one of fried potatoes and underdone bacon. The coffee, too, was none too good—for it was weak and muddy-looking. Nevertheless, both girls praised the supper extravagantly, for it tasted good to them, but they inwardly resolved to show the men the next day how food ought to be cooked.

The next two days passed pleasantly enough, for the girls were able to busy themselves with the meals, and the men's appreciation was plenty of reward for their efforts. In their off hours they relaxed by watching the ocean and scanning the sky for airplanes, the make of which Linda could often guess. Sometimes they played checkers with each other, or with Captain Smallweed, to the latter's delight. But never again was the suspicious-looking tool-box mentioned, until Linda herself handed it over to Steve, saying that she did not want to bother to take it to Havana.

By the time July third arrived, their boat was well out of the range of the yacht that was cruising in search of them, and on July fourth—the day that Jim Valier spotted the overturned motor-boat early in the morning—Captain Smallweed docked safely at Cuba.

"Where do you girls want to go now?" asked the Captain, as the party stepped ashore. "Want to come along home with me, and meet the wife? She can rig you up in some decent clothes."

"Thank you very much," replied Linda, "but we want to get to a telephone as soon as possible, so that we can get in touch with our families. So if you would just get us a taxi, and send us to the best hotel in Havana——"

"In those rigs?" inquired the other, in amazement. "Everybody will stare at you! They dress well in Cuba, you know."

"Oh, we're past caring about appearances," laughed Linda. "So stop that taxi for us, will you please, Captain?... And thank you a thousand times for all you have done for us."

"You'll hear from our fathers soon," added Dot, as she too shook hands with the old man.

Cautiously protecting the bag, into which Linda had stuffed the revolvers under the money, the girls taxied to the best hotel in the city. The driver eyed them suspiciously, and the clerk at the desk stared at them as if they were hoboes. But he condescended to assign them a room when they showed evidence of paying in advance.

"We want a long-distance wire first of all," announced Linda. "We'd like to telephone from our rooms——"

She stopped abruptly, for two slender arms were suddenly thrust about her neck, and kisses were being pressed violently upon her lips and cheeks. Louise Mackay stood behind them! Louise, with her husband, both in flyers' suits.

Try as she could, the girl could not utter a word. The tears ran down her cheeks, and she continued to kiss first Linda and then Dot in the wildest ecstasy.

"I can't believe it!" she said at last. "Is it really, truly you, Linda darling?"

"What's left of us," replied Linda, laughing. "Did you ever see two such sights as we are?"

"I never saw anyone or anything in my life that looked half so good to me!" returned Louise, fervently. She stepped back and laid her hand on her husband's arm, for so far Ted had not had a chance to say anything, or be included in the welcome. "Tell me it's true, Ted—that I'm not dreaming!" she urged. "I simply can't believe it."

"It's the best, the truest thing in the world," the young man assured her.

"We were positive you were dead," Louise explained. "We had so much evidence to prove it—the empty island where you were marooned, the overturned motor-boat that Jim Valier spotted early this morning——"

"Jim Valier!" repeated Dot, in amazement. "Where would Jim see our old boat?"

"Jim and Ralph and your two fathers are on a yacht, searching for you. They broadcast by radio any news they get. And Ted and I have flown to every island anywhere near the coast. We finished searching them all, so we landed here this morning, just for a rest."

"Then you have a plane!" cried Linda, in delight. "You can take us back to Florida! I'd so hate to get into another boat—I simply loathe the sight of them."

"Do tell us what happened to you," urged Ted. "I don't understand how we missed you everywhere."

"It's a pretty long story," replied Dot. "I think we better phone our families first. They must be almost crazy."

"They are," agreed Ted. "You go up in your room and phone them while I go to a radio station and broadcast the news."

"And I'll tell you what I'll do in the meanwhile," offered Louise. "I'll go out and buy you some decent clothing!"