"Is it back to the shore now, Frank?"
"If we are wise we'll lose no time in heading that way," was the quick response.
"What's the matter? Is there anything wrong?" demanded Jerry, taking the alarm immediately from his chum's manner.
"I think we are in for another little experience. If you notice, there are clouds along the horizon. I imagine our long-delayed norther is about to swoop down on us before long."
"Talk to me about the tough luck of that, will you! Of all times, that it should pick out this to tackle us!" exclaimed Jerry.
He had seen the dark clouds Frank mentioned, and noted that the wind was no longer in the east, but had swung around to the southwest almost magically.
Of course, they were making as fast time as the motor-boat could boast toward the dim shore line. How very far away it seemed to be! Will turned a little white as he contemplated the coming storm catching the small boat out upon the broad bosom of the great gulf.
In doing an errand of mercy they had unconsciously put their heads in the lion's mouth.
Those were very anxious minutes for the chums. Each throb of the motor was taking them closer to the land, but the clouds were rising, and the wind increasing, all too fast to please Frank.
When they were about two miles off shore he commenced to scan the scene before them with renewed eagerness. Much depended upon whether they would have the good luck to strike in at a place where shelter might be found against the fury of the storm when the waves assumed giant proportions.