it.

* * * * *

I can't tell you all about what happened. I tried and tore up three
pages. Because it makes me all excited myself, as you might say. I can
hear that crowd on the porch shouting just as plain as on that very day
it happened. And every time it rains and it's dark and windy, it
reminds me of it too. The next thing I knew we were right close beside
two fellows and Westy was holding them and shouting, "_Let go, I've got
him!_"

The fellow who wouldn't let go was Skinny.

I can't tell you about how he looked--honest, I just can't tell you.
But there was blood on his face just the same as I saw in the dream--as
sure as I'm sitting here, there was. He had hold of the camping
fellow's mackinaw jacket with his teeth and the fellow's mouth was
stretched wide open and Skinny's hand was clutching his teeth and chin
and holding his head above water that way. It wasn't like any rule for
holding a drowning fellow, anyway, no rule _I_ ever heard of. Even now
I can see that skinny little white hand straining to hold that mouth
and chin, and afterward I saw how there was a cut across Skinny's
fingers where the fellow's teeth had pressed. Skinny's arm was shaking
just like a rope shakes when it's pulled too tight and his eyes were
staring crazy.

While I kept the boat steady, Doc leaned out and pressed Skinny's jaws
so as to make his teeth let go. And even then when we dragged him in
over the stern, he had a piece of mackinaw jacket in his mouth.

I said, "Skinny, don't act crazy, he's saved," but he only sat on the
back seat trembling all over as if he had a fit. It wasn't because he
was cold, it was just because he was excited and crazy like.

I didn't notice the camping fellow much after I saw that he was alive
and that Doc had him breathing all right. Westy took the oars but I
couldn't help him on account of Skinny. And I couldn't do much for
Skinny either. He was gone clean out of his head and started screaming,
"_I did it; I did it!_"

I said, "Yes, you did it; try to be quiet and get rested now. Can't you
see he's all right?"

"I held him up till you came," he panted; "I'm a hero. I want to go and
be all by myself, I do."

I said, "Hsh, Skinny, listen--"

"He called me!" Skinny shouted; "_he called me_ out loud!"

"I know," I said, "and you went. Sure, you're a hero." But of course, I
knew the fellow never called him at all. Anyway, maybe the wind made it
sound that way