th out of his lungs. "Oh,
Hal, we're in mid-stream!" gulped the child; "we'll be drowned!"

"Not on your life, kiddie!" spluttered Hal. "I'll get that bally canoe.
Only don't hold on around my neck, that's a good kiddie. There, that's
better," as Freddy loosened his fingers from Hal's shirt collar, and the
boy struck out with one arm around the child and the other working for
all the grit and muscle there was in it. His magnificent stroke, helped
by the wind and current, soon overhauled the canoe. By a supreme effort
he clutched the immersed gunwale. With one arm around Freddy he could
never hope to right the boat, but even bottom up she was a salvation.
"Grip her, kiddie, grip her as I shove you up," he gasped, "and don't
let go; straddle her and hang on! Promise me you will hang on,--promise
me!" he cried.

"I'll promise," gulped the child. Then Hal's powerful arm flung itself
upwards, his two hands "boosted," and Freddy landed on the upturned
canoe, gripping it with all fours and coughing the water from his mouth.

Hal made an attempt to climb up, his fingers slipped; then two terrible
little demons seemed to grasp the calves of his legs; their fingers
ripped the muscles out and tied them into knots, knots that extended to
his knees, his hips, his stomach; his fingers weakened with the agony of
it--Hal Bennington knew he was going down with cramps.

Away off to the right he thought he heard a voice; it was saying, "Keep
up, Hal, keep up, I'm coming!" but he could not answer. With a last
effort he literally screamed, "Hang on, Freddy, hang on!" Then he felt
numb, very numb, and all was dark.

Professor Warwick had gone out to furl the awnings against the rising
wind. His kindly little eyes were peering through their spectacles at
sea and sky when suddenly they rested on a frail canoe that was taking
an erratic course toward the island. Instantly he was around at the
other side of the cottage. "Boys, boys," he shouted frantically, "Quick,
get out the sailboat, Hal's canoe is in danger!"

"Sailboat!" gasped Cop Billings, springing to his feet; "she's no good;
bottom's out, a whole patch of her. She's being repaired." But while
he talked he was running wildly to the boathouse followed by all the
others. As they reached the little wharf they were just in time to
see the combers strike the canoe, to see Freddy start, then to see it
capsize. For a moment they were horror-stricken, speechless, then Cop
yelled, "He's go