tion, he felt the spray on his face and knew that the boat was once again cleaving the water.
"Now," shouted the pilot. "Nearly there! Now for a place to anchor."
Swift maneuvering brought the ship athwart the shore-line, vaguely visible in the gloom. Jimmy was almost too excited by the experience just past to think of any perils ahead. A journey—even such a brief one—in a flying ship by night would have thrilled any youngster.
"Now," directed Turner when the anchor was cast and the boat tipped the sand. "Out, quick as you can make it. Hold tight to the axe. Don't drop that, for heaven's sake!"
"Reckon any crook will smash the ship while we're gone?" the boy asked as they ploughed through the sand.
"I'm not reckoning anything. You follow me."
The two made their way stealthily from the lake through the sand path up to the mound, pausing from time to time to listen for suspicious noises amid the howling of the tempest. Before them in the gloom the lighthouse loomed like a weird and gigantic phantom. Jimmy, fighting
