Phyllis whirled about. “What is the matter? Why do you say that?” she demanded in a fierce whisper.

Eileen shrank back, evidently appalled by what she had unconsciously revealed. “I—I—didn’t mean anything!” she stammered.

“You certainly did!” Phyllis declared. “You said something about ‘Ted.’ Who is ‘Ted,’ and what is going on outside there?”

“Oh, I don’t know!—I’m not—sure! I’m dreadfully nervous—that’s all.”

“Look here!” cried Phyllis, with stern determination, “I believe you know a great deal more than you will acknowledge. You’ve said something about ‘Ted.’ Now, I have a brother Ted, and I’ve reason to think he has been mixed up with some of your affairs. I wish you would kindly explain it all. I think there’s some trouble—out there!”

“Oh, I can’t—I oughtn’t,” Eileen moaned; when suddenly Leslie, who had glanced again out of the window, uttered a half-suppressed cry:

“Oh, there is something wrong! They’re—they’re struggling together—for something!”

Both of the other girls rushed to the window and peered out over her shoulder. There was indeed something decidedly exciting going on. The two figures who had been circling about the old log, watching each other like a couple of wild animals, were now wrestling together in a fierce encounter. How it had come about, the girls did not know, as none of them had been looking out when it began. But it was plainly a struggle for the possession of something that one of them had clutched tightly in his hand. Vaguely they could see it, dangling about, as the contest went on. And each, in her secret heart, knew it to be the burlap bag—and its contents!

“Eileen!” cried Phyllis, turning sharply upon the other girl, “is one of those two—my brother Ted? Answer me—truthfully.”

“Yes—oh, yes!” panted Eileen.

“And is he in—danger?” persisted Phyllis.

“Oh—I’m afraid so!”

“Then I’m going out to help him!” declared Phyllis, courageously. “Come, Leslie—and bring Rags!”

Leslie never afterward knew how it happened—that she, a naturally timid person, should have walked out of that house, unhesitatingly and unquestioningly, to do battle with some unknown enemy in the storm and the dark. If she had had any time to think about it, she might have faltered. But Phyllis gave her no time. With Rags at their heels, they snatched up some wraps and all suddenly burst out of the front door onto the veranda, Phyllis having stopped only long enough to take up her electric torch from the living-room table. She switched this on in the darkness, and, guided by its light, they plunged into the storm.

The force of the wind almost took their breath away. And as they plowed along, Leslie was horrified to notice that the tide had crept almost up to the level of the old log and was within sixty feet of the bungalow. “Oh, what shall we do if it comes much higher!” she moaned to herself. But from that moment on, she had little time for such considerations.

Phyllis had plunged ahead with the light, and the two other girls followed her in the shadow. Leslie was somewhat hampered in her advance, as she was holding Rags by his collar and he strongly objected to the restraint. But she dared not let him loose just then.

Suddenly they were plunged in utter darkness. Phyllis’s torch had given out! And the two others, reaching her side at that instant, heard her gasp, “Oh, dreadful! Can anything be the matter with this battery?” But after a moment’s manipulation the light flashed on again. It was in this instant that they saw the face of Ted, lying on the ground and staring up at them while his assailant held him firmly pinned beneath him in an iron grip.

“Help!” shrieked Ted, above the roar of the wind. “Let Rags loose!”

They needed no other signal. Leslie released her hold on the impatient animal, and with a snarl that was almost unnerving, he darted, straight as an arrow, for Ted’s assailant.

The girls never knew the whole history of that encounter. They only realized that Ted finally emerged from a whirling medley of legs and arms, limping but triumphant, and strove to loosen the dog’s grip on a man who was begging to be released.

“That’ll do, Rags, old boy! You’ve done the trick! Good old fellow! Now you can let go!” he shouted at the dog, trying to persuade him to loosen his hold. But Rags was obdurate. He could see no point in giving up the struggle at this interesting juncture.

“Call him off!” Ted shouted to the girls, “I can’t make him let go!”

“Is it safe?” cried Phyllis, in answer.

“We’ll have to take a chance!” he answered. “He’s half killing this fellow!”

With beating heart Leslie came into the range of the light, grasped Rags by the collar and pulled at him with all her might. “Come Rags! Let go! It’s all right!”

The dog gave way reluctantly. And when he had at length loosed his terrible grip and was safely in Leslie’s custody, the man scrambled to his feet, rose, held on to his arm with his other hand, and groaned.

And, despite his disheveled condition and his drenched appearance, in the glare of the electric torch the girls recognized him, with a start of amazement. It was the fisherman of the afternoon—the man with the former limp!

He turned immediately on Ted with an angry, impatient gesture. “Well, the other fellow got it—after all! I don’t know what business you had in this concern, but you spoiled the trick for me—and didn’t do yourself any good! And if that dog gives me hydrophobia, I’ll sue the whole outfit of you! He beat it off in that direction—the other fellow. I saw that much. I can’t lose any time, though what I need is a doctor.”

And with another angry snort, he disappeared into the darkness and the hurricane.