this time she was content to keep reasonably quiet. Bobtail only
endeavored to keep her head out of the water, which he was not always
able to do when the great waves surged in upon him. He no longer
attempted to make any headway, but by occasionally pushing his feet
against the rocks he saved himself from being disabled against them.

One of the gentlemen on the island had shouted to the boatmen to pull
around to the little bay. The sailors, thrilled by the screams of Mrs.
Montague, were straining every muscle, and their oars bent like reeds
before their vigorous strokes. The other boat, with Colonel Montague in
the stern-sheets, was also hastening to the spot, the half frantic
father urging the men forward with wild gestures. On the rock above, the
party watched the struggling swimmer as he bravely supported his
helpless burden.

Two of the ladies held the agonized mother, to prevent her from leaping
over the cliff. The gentlemen were shouting to the men in the boat to
hasten their speed, for there was nothing else they could do. Bobtail
saw the boat, and heard the rapid thumps of the oars in the rowlocks.
The sight and the sound inspired him with new courage. He had ceased to
struggle any more than was necessary to keep his distance from the rock.

"Hold on a few seconds more," shouted one of the gentlemen on the rock
above.

[Illustration]

Bobtail tried to speak, but he could not, though he felt that for a
short time longer he was master of the situation.

"Way enough!" said one of the men in the boat. "Toss him an oar, Bill."

The stroke oarsman threw one of his oars to Bobtail, who grasped it, and
supported himself with it.

"Back her," said the man in the bow, as he reached forward, and seized
one of Miss Grace's arms, while the other man kept the boat in position
with his oars.

The stout sailor lifted the young lady into the boat, and Bobtail laid
hold of the bow with his released hand. A shout of joy rose from the
rock when Grace was safely drawn into the boat.

"Back her!" gasped Little Bobtail, still clinging to the bow with one
hand, while he held the oar with the other.

Grace was exhausted and panting violently, but she was not insensible.
She was even able to sit up; and when the boat had backed clear of the
rocks, she was placed on the velvet cushions at the stern. In another
moment the second boat dashed alongside, and Colonel Montague leaped
into the stern-sheets, and folded his daughte