ards away at least, and still paying out. By the way, where was the
rope? With a cry of horror Tubbs sprang to the anchor and began hauling
in. The rope came in gaily, but not the "Eliza." She danced merrily
cut to sea in a straight line for the North Pole, with the six brown-
paper parcels on board, leaving her poor custodian to console himself as
best he could with a loose end of rope, which had never been fastened to
its ring.

What was he to do? After taking a few minutes to collect his ideas, by
which time the boat was a hundred yards on its solitary voyage, it
occurred to him he had better inform the others of what had happened.
So he started in rather a low state of mind in pursuit of them. It was
a long time before he came upon them, perched in a group on the highest
point of the island, and singing "Rule Britannia" in a lusty chorus
which sent the scared seagulls flying to right and left.

"Hullo, Tubby, old man, here we are! Got the grub safe ashore? Not
been bagging any of the peaches, eh? You've been long enough."

Tubbs replied by pointing mysteriously to a little speck out at sea.

"What's the row? What is it?" asked Gayford.

"You wouldn't guess what that little thing is," said Tubbs.

"What is it? Can't you speak?"

"Well, if you must know, it's our boat. The anchor wasn't tied, you
know!"

"The boat! You great booby!" cried one and all, springing to their feet
and rushing in the direction of the pier, upsetting and trampling over
the unhappy Tubbs as they did so.

"What on earth shall we do?" gasped Gayford, as he ran by Bowler's side.

"We must swim for it," said Bowler. "It's our only chance."

"Can't do it. She's half a mile out."

"It's all up with us if we can't get her!" groaned Bowler.

They reached the landing-stage, and there, sure enough, danced the
"Eliza" half a mile out at sea.

"I'll try it," said Bowler, flinging off his coat.

"What, to swim? You'll do nothing of the sort," said Gayford, seizing
his friend by main force.

"I tell you it's our only chance," cried Bowler. "Let go, do you hear?"

"No, I won't, old man. We must make the best of it. It'll be more like
New Swishford than ever now."

This last argument had more effect with Bowler than any other, and he
slowly put on his coat.

"I vote we souse that idiot, Tubbs, till he's black in the face," said
Crashford viciously.

"What's the use of that?" asked Bowler. "The fact is, you fellows,"