"I can easily see that you chaps have been through some thrilling experiences," remarked the Wolf boy, whose name proved to be Donald Grant, attached to the Wolf Patrol of the 14th New York City Troop.
"We have, indeed," rejoined Rob, "but we would rather defer the telling of them till we arrive on board your yacht. What's her name?"
"The Brigand," was the reply; "we are on a cruise through the West Indies."
"The Brigand," echoed the ensign. "Isn't that J. P. Grant, the great financier's yacht?"
"Yes, he's my father," rejoined Donald simply; "he's on board. You'll be glad to meet him, and I know he'll be delighted to welcome you and hear your story."
"Did you recognize our signal as soon as you saw it?" inquired Rob.
"I sure did," responded Donald; "lucky you sent it up, too, as we were on another course, and would not have passed near enough to see that there was anyone on board what we thought was just an old hulk drifting about the ocean."
"You'll be more interested still when you hear how we made the signals," spoke up Hiram.
"Well, I knew that the call meant that the necessity was urgent, and although we were going slowly at the time we soon got under full speed. Dad has been a bit sceptical about scouting, but I guess he'll admit there's some good in it now."
"It was Scout lore that saved our lives," said the ensign quietly.