de, seized the swimmer by the coat collar. Landy at once
allowed himself to apparently collapse. He was content to have someone
support him; but some of his chums imagined there was a suspicious
_manufactured_ look in the expression of terror that had fixed itself
on his face.

With plenty to lend a helping hand the fat scout was soon pushed and
hauled on board the skiff from which he had fallen. The treacherous
pole was also recovered and given in charge of Lil Artha, for, of
course, it could not be expected that a fellow who had just been
rescued from a watery grave would be able to continue that arduous task
of pushing.

Lil Artha frequently looked queerly at the dripping Landy as he used
the pole. Sometimes he would chuckle softly to himself, and a swift
grin flash athwart his lean countenance as though a humorous thought
had struck him; after which the tall scout might be observed to shake
his head as if bothered.

Landy settled down to taking things easy. He wanted them all to know
that he had had a remarkably close call, and every little while he
would heave a great sigh, to follow it with such words as:

"I'm terrible glad you boys were on deck to save me. My clothes seemed
as heavy as lead, and I sure think I'd have gone down three times if
you hadn't chucked me aboard here. That was a narrow squeak for me. I
guess I went and got too confident, and it made me careless. But holy
smoke! how that mud can grip! I just couldn't get the old pole out
nohow, and that's a fact. I won't forget what you did for me, fellers,
sure I won't. I hope to be able to do the same for every lasting one
of you some day."

"You're too kind, Landy," laughed Toby; "none of us are hankering after
an experience like that. I'll never forget what you looked like,
dangling there on that push-pole, and trying to squirm your legs around
it so as to climb up. Want to know what you made me think of, Landy?"

"Go on and tell me," said the other, with a tremble in his voice, for
he was by this time beginning to feel the effect of his immersion.

"Why, you remember how we used to go frog-hunting in a boat, with a
three-foot line at the end of a stout pole, and a small hook baited
with a piece of red flannel? Well, when we'd see a whopping big
greenback we'd dangle that red stuff close to his nose. It was funny
to see him squat down like a cat does on sighting a sparrow or a robin,
and then jump up to grab the flannel."

To