"O Billy! What are those men doing?" cried the girl.

"They're shooting. They're shooting at papa! Quick, Billy! Do

something. For heaven's sake do something."

On the deck below them the "rescued" crew of the "Clarinda"

had surrounded Mr. Harding, Captain Norris, and most

of the crew of the Lotus, flashing quick-drawn revolvers from

beneath shirts and coats, and firing at two of the yacht's men

who showed fight.

"Keep quiet," commanded Skipper Simms, "an' there won't

none of you get hurted."

"What do you want of us?" cried Mr. Harding. "If it's

money, take what you can find aboard us, and go on your

way. No one will hinder you."

Skipper Simms paid no attention to him. His eyes swept

aloft to the upper deck. There he saw a wide-eyed girl and a

man looking down upon them. He wondered if she was the

one they sought. There were other women aboard. He could

see them, huddled frightened behind Harding and Norris.

Some of them were young and beautiful; but there was

something about the girl above him that assured him she

could be none other than Barbara Harding. To discover the

truth Simms resorted to a ruse, for he knew that were he to

ask Harding outright if the girl were his daughter the chances

were more than even that the old man would suspect something

of the nature of their visit and deny her identity.

"Who is that woman you have on board here?" he cried in

an accusing tone of voice. "That's what we're a-here to find

out."

"Why she's my daughter, man!" blurted Harding. "Who did

you--"

"Thanks," said Skipper Simms, with a self-satisfied grin.

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