boat grated on the beach, her gaze fixed on Keith's bleeding face.
"You're hurt!" she cried.
"Only a scratch from a flying splinter," he answered lightly as he sprang out. "Nothing of consequence, really."
"You're sure?" she asked anxiously.
"Quite. One of the boys, though, needs some mending."
"I heard a lot of firing," she said, relieved, "and I lost sight of you after you got round the edge of the reef. Tell me what happened."
"There isn't much to tell," Keith replied glumly, "except that Moniz is in complete command of the situation. If you'll be kind enough to get me some antiseptic dressing I'll fix this fellow's shoulder up first. It isn't serious."
"I am glad you came back safely," the girl said to Keith when they were once more on the veranda and he had told the story of the skirmish. There was unmistakable sincerity in her voice.
"There wasn't much danger," he said awkwardly.
"I know there was," she declared; "and now I hope you will leave that blackguard alone until Chester comes back."
His eyes wandered over the ocean to the masts of the schooner rising behind the purple loom of the reef, and then back to her.
