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92 The good old woman was lighting her kitchen fire. He cut short her wrinkled smile of welcome.

"Barbara," he said, snatching a bottle of oil from her shelf, "I must frighten you a little, but you must stand it, for Miss Helen's sake. There's danger from that crowd over in Black Harbor. Just how much I can't say. I'm going across to the town, and bring over some men to see no harm's done. But meantime, you must keep the house shut up, tight. Don't let them go out, or any one in."

The old woman's face looked very white, but there was pluck in her eyes.

"It's for Miss Helen's sake," he repeated. "Keep up your courage. I 'll be back."

"All right, Mr. Archer, sir," she faltered. "I 'll do it, sir."

He was off, running to the beach, and along it northward, to make his start as far as possible above the line where the whirlpool might appear. Ripping off his clothes, he ran naked down to the water's edge, doused the oil over his body, and rubbed