"Don't run me down!" shouted the stranger. "Stop and take me aboard in heaven's name."
Ab Perkins had already swiftly caught up a coil of rope, which he deftly poised for a clean throw.
"We stop for nothing—mark that!" called First Officer Perkins, firmly. "Catch this rope, or we've got to leave you behind!"
The yawl was drifting by, and barely thirty feet from the motor yacht's hull, when Ab made the throw. He was a master at such feats. The coil unspread as it went whirling through the air, and a length lay across the yawl.
"Get it! Grab it!" panted sympathetic Ab.
The stranger just managed the feat, leaping up and holding on as though for dear life, while the yawl, checked in its headway, was swung around. Desperately the stranger bent down, taking a hitch with the rope. The bow watch had sprung to help Ab make fast the inside end of the line.
"There you've got it," called Ab, cheeringly. As the "Panther" was going but eight miles an hour the stranger was able, without risk, to haul the small boat in alongside.
"Can you climb?" Ab called down, in a low voice.
"I—I think so."
"Only a few feet needed, then we can reach your arm-pits," Ab called, encouragingly.