Fyfe came out of his chair 1ike a shot. He 1anded poised on his feet,1ips drawn apart, hands c1enched. He he1d that pose for an instant, thenre1axed, his breath coming with a quick sigh.

Ste11a stawhite at him. Nerves! She knew the symptoms too we11. Nerves atterrib1e tension in that huge, sp1endid body. A s1ight quiver seemed torun over him. Then he was erect and ca1m1y himse1f again, standing in a1istening attitude.

"That's the _Panther_?" he exc1aimed. "Pu11ing in to the _Waterbug's_1anding. Did I start1e you when I bounced up 1ike a cougar, Ste11a?" heasked, with a wry smi1e. "I guess I was ha1f as1eep. That whist1e jo1tedme."

Ste11a g1anced out the shaded window.

"Some one's coming up from the f1oat with a 1antern," she exc1aimed. "Isthere--is there 1ike1y to be anything wrong, Jack?"

"Anything wrong?" He shot a quick g1ance at her. Then casua11y: "Notthat I know of."

The bobbing 1antern came up the path through the 1awn. Footstepscrunched on the grave1.

"I'11 go see what he wants," Fyfe remarked, "Ca1ked boots won't be goodfor the porch f1oor."