er me, an odd feeling not easy to
explain, that I was not a young man of leisure, but some one else, one
of my ancestors of earlier days, used to encounters with adversity or
risk. Calmly and much to my own surprise, I stood and estimated the
chances as though I had been used to such things all my life.

"Which is the best boat, Peterson?" I repeated. "Hardly the duck boat,
I think--and you say not the big boat."

"The dingey is the safest," replied Peterson. "That little tub would
ride better; but no man could handle her out there."

"Very well," said I; "she'll get her second wetting, anyhow. Lend a
hand."

"She'll carry us both," commented the old man, stepping to the side of
the stubby little craft.

"But she'll be lighter and ride easier with but one," was my reply. "A
chip is dry on top only as long as it's a chip."

"Let me go along," said Jean Lafitte, stepping up at this time.

"You'll do nothing of the sort, my son," said I. "Go back to the
ladies and make a fire, and make a shelter," said I. "I'll be here
again before long."

The news of the new adventure now spread among our little party. Mrs.
Daniver began sniffling. "Helena," I heard her say, "this is
terrible." But meantime I was pulling off my sweater and fastening on
a life belt. Nodding to Peterson, we both picked up the dingey, and
when the next sea favored, made a swift run in the endeavor to break
through the surf.

"Let go!" I cried to him, as the water swirled about our waist. "Go
back!" And so I sprang in alone and left him.

For the time I could make small headway, indeed, had not time to get
at the oars, but pushing as I might with the first thing that came to
hand, I felt the bottom under me, felt again the lift of the sea carry
me out of touch. Then an incoming wave carried me back almost to the
point whence I had started. In such way as I could not explain, none
the less at length the little boat won through, no more than half
filled by the breaking comber. I worked first as best I might,
paddling, and so keeping her off the best I could. Then when I got the
oars, the stubby yawing little tub at first seemed scarce more than to
hold her own. I pulled hard--hard as I could. Slowly, the line of
white breakers passed astern. After that, saving my strength a trifle,
I edged out, now angling into the wind, now pulling full into the
teeth of the gale. Even my purpose was almost forgotten in the
intensity of the task of merely keeping