ention to Jiminy and between them aided
him into shallow water.

By the time the three swimmers reached the beach the scouts had cleared
Dacy's lungs of water and had started the pulmotor. For twenty minutes
the lads worked valiantly, doing everything that they could to bring back
life in the unconscious man, while the anxious crowd looked on.

Finally their efforts were rewarded. Dacy's eyelids quivered several
times, then slowly opened, whereat the crowd gave a mad cry of joy and
the scouts had all they could do to keep them from pressing closer.

But one man did break through the circle of guards and the lads let him
pass. He was Mr. Herrick. Tears of joy coursed down his good natured
face when he saw that Dacy was still alive, and before the scouts could
restrain him he seized the prostrate man's hand and squeezed it while he
murmured:

"Dacy, Dacy, thank goodness you are still alive. I was afraid you had
sacrificed your life to save that little girl of mine."

Then turning toward Bruce, he said, "Scouts, I don't know how to thank
you for this. I--"

"Don't try to thank us, Mr. Herrick," said Bruce, "but you can help us
put him onto the side car. I think we should get to a doctor's right
away, for there may be some broken bones or internal injuries."

And a few moments later the life guard's motorcycle was carrying its
first patient to the emergency hospital.

CHAPTER XIV

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENED

Whack--"Nine-hundred-en-ten;" whack--"nine-hundred-en-'leven," whack,
"Zare ees almoost une tousan trees what you boys mus' cut awraty. What
you zink of zat?" said Paul Nez, the big French-Canadian lumber cruiser,
as he hacked a blaze into a six-inch poplar and left his short hatchet
wedged fast while he felt through his pockets for a handkerchief.

"Et will take you all ze Wintair for ze work mebbe, huh?" he continued,
as he blew his nose with a loud blast.

"George! I shouldn't wonder if it would take us a couple of months at
least," said Bruce Clifford as he sat down upon a stump and pushed his
hat back upon his head.

"Yes, snow will be thick through here when we finally finish, I guess,"
added Jiminy Gordon, surveying the forest.

"Well, the Doctair Lyman he say he not such great rush," smiled the
Canadian. Then he paused and seemed to search into the very heart of the
wood with his coal black eyes, and all this time he kept sniffing the
air.

"Camp 'round here sure. One no g