as he surveyed the mainsail, which had two holes in it each as large as a barrel. "I'd like to wring the neck of the fellow as did it, yes I would," and he shook his head determinedly.
"That's the end of that light," said Sergeant Brown. "What are you going to do next?"
"I think I can get that searchlight to work," put in Dick. "But will it be of any use? They may start to shooting again."
"We've got to have some kind of a light, even if it's only a tallow candle," grumbled Harris. "If we haven't got a light some coastwise steamer may run us down."
He set to work to rig up a temporary light, and in the meantime Dick returned to the cabin to experiment with the electric light. He found Sam on the couch, bathing his leg with oil to take away the sting of the burn.
"How is it, Sam—hurt much?"
"I suppose it might be worse," was the younger brother's reply. "I wonder who fired that shot?"
"One of the Baxters, more than likely. They are a cold-blooded pair."
"One or more of us might have been killed—if we had been directly behind the lights."
"That is true. I don't suppose Arnold Baxter would care much if we were. He was father's
