CHAPTER IX.
THE BOYS MEET A "WOLF."
Faster and faster came the yacht. She was a large white craft, with a yellow funnel and two rakish-looking masts, with light spidery rigging. Between her masts was suspended a parallel sort of "antennæ," wires betokening that she carried wireless. At her bow the foam creamed up as she rushed through the water on her errand of mercy.
With what anxiety those on the Good Hope watched her, may be imagined. Their eyes fairly burned as they regarded the race of their rescuers against the fire which raged below them. For the two holes cut by Rob and Merritt, while they had had the good effect of attracting aid, had also had a less gratifying result.
Through them the air had been transmitted to the flaming mass below, and flames were now shooting up through them and enlarging the openings every instant. The air grew so fearfully hot that all were compelled to beat a retreat to the extreme stern of the Good Hope.
Little was said as the yacht rounded up as close to the burning ship as she dared, and lowered a boat. By this time clouds of black smoke, shot with livid flames, were shooting skyward above the doomed craft. It was a fortunate thing for the castaways that no wind was stirring or this story might have had a different termination.
The boat was manned by sailors in white duck clothes and was guided by a lad wearing the Boy Scout uniform. As soon as they saw this the boys gave the cry of the Eagle Patrol. As the long drawn "Kree-ee-ee!" died out, the boy in the stern stood erect and gave the Scout salute. Then followed a long-drawn, growling shout:
"How-oo-oo-oo!"
"That's the cry of one of the Wolf Patrols!" cried Merritt.
"Yes; and that boy is a Wolf," declared Rob.