surface-skimming hydroplane.

“I was right!” shouted Sandy, unheard but triumphant—and also a little startled that he had so closely guessed what would happen.

He swung his head, signaled Dick, waved an arm, pointing. Dick and Larry stared, while Sandy poked Jeff and repeated his gestures.

On the horizon, coming at moderate speed, but growing large enough so that there could be no error of identification, came the amphibian. Its dun color and its tail marking were unmistakable.

“The amphibian!” cried Larry. “I wonder why——”

“I wonder who’s in it?” Dick mused as Jeff cut the gun and went into a glide, the better to get a look at the oncoming craft low over the seashore.

Larry realized with a pang that he was neglecting Jeff’s plan.

He looked down.

No glass was needed to show him the yacht, swiftly being brought almost under them by its speed and theirs. A quarter of a mile away was the hydroplane, coming fast. A mile to the south flew the approaching amphibian. And in every mind—even Jeff’s, had they been able to read it—was the puzzled question, “Why?”

Jeff began to climb in a tight upward spiral to keep as well over the scene of activity as he could without being in the way.

“And to be high enough to interfere if something has slipped,” Larry decided on the purpose in Jeff’s mind. Then, as the amphibian came roaring up a hundred yards to their left, and in a wide swing began to circle the yacht, Sandy screeched in excitement and pointed downward.

“Something’s happening!” he screamed.

Swiftly Larry threw his binoculars into focus as he swept the length of the yacht to discover what caused Sandy’s cry, for with a wing in his way he did not see the stern. They swung and he gave a shout of dismay and amazement.

“Somebody’s overboard!”

Instantly he corrected himself.

“No—but there’s a life preserver in the water—it was thrown over but the yacht isn’t stopping.” His glasses swept the bridge, the deck.

“No excitement—now, I wonder——”

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