THE FOREST PILOT
“Shoot! Shoot! For God’s sake shoot, Larry!”
CHAPTER I
THE STORM
The November sun that had been red and threatening all day, slowlydisappeared behind a cloud bank. The wind that had held steadily tothe south for a week, now shifted suddenly to the northeast, comingas a furious blast. In a moment, it seemed, the mild Indian Summerbreeze was changed to a fierce winter gale.
The little schooner yacht that had been riding in the bay not morethan a half mile from the jagged, rocky shore line, began dancingabout like a cork. For a swell had come driving in from the oceanjust as the wind changed, and now the two tall masts waved back andforth, bending in wide sweeps before the gale. Unfortunately for thelittle craft the change of the direction of the wind exposed it tothe storm’s full fury.
The captain, a weatherbeaten old Yankee who had sailed vessels ofhis own as well as those belonging to other people for forty years,was plainly worried. With a glass in his hand he scanned the shoreline of the bay in every direction, occasionally giving a sharporder to the four sailors who hurried about the deck to carry outhis commands.
The only other persons on th