shrieked.
"It's freezing! Br-r-r!"

"Move around and get warm," advised Norton, striking out. "It isn't bad
when you get used to it."

But Tom, accustomed to the tempered water of the school tank, groaned
and refused to be optimistic. "Bet it isn't a bit over forty-five," he
muttered.

Steve was already well out in the cove, pursued by Norton. Some of the
boys who had failed to find suits had launched a decrepit rowboat and,
with one broken oar, were splashing about near the float. Far out in the
Sound a big white steamer passed eastward, her lights showing white in
the gathering darkness and the strains from her orchestra coming
faintly across the quiet water. The boys in the rowboat stopped
skylarking to discuss what steamer it was, and Marvin, who had swam up
behind and laid hands on the gunwale, told them that it was the
_Lusitania_ and that if they didn't agree with him he'd tip them over.
Discussion ceased at once. The four mariners instantly declared that he
was right. Churchill even went so far as to say that he had known it was
the _Lusitania_ all the time; that he could always tell her by her
funnels. Innes, who was seated in the stern and filling his position to
the limit, acknowledged that for an instant--oh, the merest fraction of
a second!--he had thought the steamer was the _Ne'er-do-well_, Berlin to
Kansas City, but that he had seen his mistake almost instantly! By which
time, the _Priscilla_, New York to Fall River, had passed out of sight,
and Marvin, merely tipping the boat until the water ran in a bit over
one side, just as a mark of esteem, swam off before Guild could reach
him with the broken oar.

Tom and Williams were paddling about not far off the landing, Tom
floating on his back most of the time and complaining about the
temperature of the water, when Norton swam up, puffing and blowing.

"Where's Steve?" asked Tom. Norton nodded toward the Long Island shore.

"Somewhere out there," he answered. "He was too much for me. I had to
quit. The chump swims like a--a dolphin. I'm going in, fellows. I'm
getting cold."

"I guess we'd all better," agreed Williams. "Hello! What's that?"

"_Help!_" From somewhere beyond the mouth of the little cove the cry
came, sharp, imperative, and was repeated again while they listened.

"It's Edwards," muttered Norton uneasily. "I suppose he's only trying to
get a rise out of us. He can swim like----"

"Must be," agreed Williams. "Can you see him?"

The