“Oh, I can’t, I can’t,” Anne half sobbed.

“Yes, you can. Do exactly as I say and we’ll make it.”

Anne nodded that she understood what was expected but Madge wondered if she really had the strength to obey. She swam to the other side of the skiff and at her signal both girls slowly raised themselves up from the water. The boat wobbled dangerously but Anne appreciated the need for caution. Working deliberately, they kept the skiff upright until both were safely over the edge. Exhausted by the effort, Anne sank down in a little heap on the bottom, shivering from nervous excitement and cold. Madge resisted the temptation to drop down beside her and snatched up the oars.

“I’ll make for the island!” she cried, above the roar of the wind. “If we can reach the cove, the waves won’t be so high.”

The center of the storm appeared to have passed over, yet gigantic breakers continued to lash against the boat. The steadily falling rain made it difficult for Madge to see where she was going and she depended largely upon her instinct for direction.

“Let me help,” Anne presently offered, realizing that she was not doing her share.

“We’re almost there,” Madge returned without giving up the oars.

One glance at her companion assured her that Anne was in no condition to assist. She was a frail girl but rather pretty in spite of her bedraggled appearance. Her hair was dark and straight and her features were as regular as those of a statue. Madge judged her to be sixteen or seventeen but it was difficult to guess accurately for Anne’s sober expression undoubtedly made her look older than she