ness was stealing from foot
to knee.

The bishop heard, rolled over on his back and, treading water, saw
Clark's face. The lips were puffed out, the head bent back and he was
splashing desperately.

"Hang on to it, I'm coming," roared the big man, and, laying his right
shoulder forward; began to tear through the water. Like a tug he came,
with a bubble of foam around his head, half his face submerged, his
powerful arms and legs working like pistons. Such was the power in him
that at each stroke his great body seemed to lift and fling itself
forward, and behind him broadened a long, diamond shaped ripple that
slid whispering to the shore. The next moment sounded a voice, as from
a long way off:

"Put your arms straight out--rest your palms on my shoulders. When I
turn, trail your body and don't try to do anything. That's it." The
bishop was breathing hard, but not in any way distressed.

They moved toward the yacht and Clark felt beneath his hands the
working of big, flexible muscles, and the buoyant surge of the
practiced swimmer who glides with the minimum of effort and resistance.
In five minutes he was scarifying his skin with a rough towel and
tingled with renewing circulation.

"You saved my life that time," he said earnestly.

The bishop pulled his shirt over his head. "Well, that's my business,
isn't it? and I fancy it's about the only thing I can do for a man like
you. Let's have some breakfast. I smell fish."

Clark, in spite of his late experience, ate as he seldom ate, for there
were two things at which Indian Joe was a master--pilotage and cooking.
The visitor asked for more, silently deciding that his Japanese must
go, being no such artist as this.

"You're using royal silver," said his host presently with a grin. "I
bought this boat from the agent of a certain august personage for whom
she had grown too small, and I got everything complete. She has a
bronze propeller and copper rivets. I've got the royal burgee too, and
fly it only on special occasions."

The other man smiled and nodded. It did not somehow seem strange to
him to be using royal silver in a remote bay on Lake Huron. Something
about the bishop made it appropriate. Then they lifted anchor and the
Evangeline moved on under a climbing sun and over a laughing sea for
ten miles till she nosed into a creaking dock and made fast. Just
beyond was the settlement, from which the parson came hurrying down,
followed by others