Gripping the rope, she hauled madly at the sail. It went up with a sudden start, then stuck. She threw her whole weight upon it. It gave way suddenly, to drop her sprawling upon the deck. She lost her hold. The sail came down with a bang.
She was in the midst of her third frantic attempt to get under way, to go for help, when a voice quite near her said:
“It’s all right. Let the sail go. I’ll hoist it. Catch this painter.”
“Ruth!” Pearl’s tone voiced her joy.
A rope struck across the deck. She caught it. The next moment her cousin was climbing on board.
“It was my punt,” said Ruth quietly.
“But the men? What did they do?”
“Went overboard, and swam for the fort. Let ’em shiver there till morning. Do ’em good. Teach ’em a lesson.”
“Something queer, though,” she said as she made the painter fast. “They seemed terribly afraid I’d beat up their cargo. Must be fresh eggs. Let’s have a flashlight. We’ll take a look.”
A circle of light fell across the punt. A long drawn breath of excitement escaped the girl’s lips.