't--grab. Now, let go."

The next minute the man lay in the dory, dragged over the stern by
Netty's grip on his collar.

"Lie still," ordered Natty, clutching the oars. To row around the
overturned boat, amid the swirl of water about her, was a task that
taxed Netty's skill and strength to the utmost. The other man was
dragged in over the bow, and with a gasp of relief Natty pulled away
from the sinking boat. Once clear of her he could not row for a few
minutes; he was shaking from head to foot with the reaction from
tremendous effort and strain.

"This'll never do," he muttered. "I'm not going to be a baby now. But
will I ever be able to row back?"

Presently, however, he was able to grip his oars again and pull for
the lighthouse, whose beacon loomed dimly through the fog like a great
blur of whiter mist. The men, obedient to his orders, lay quietly
where he had placed them, and before long Natty was back again at the
lighthouse landing, where Prue was waiting, wild with anxiety. The men
were helped out and assisted up to the lighthouse, where Natty went to
hunt up dry clothes for them, and Prue flew about to prepare hot
drinks.

"To think that that child saved us!" exclaimed one of the men. "Why, I
didn't think a grown man had the strength to do what he did. He is
your brother, I suppose, Miss Miller. You have another brother, I
think?"

"Oh, yes--Everett--but he is away," explained Prue. "We heard your
shouts and Natty insisted on going at once to your rescue."

"Well, he came just in time. I couldn't have held on another
minute--was so done up I couldn't have moved or spoken all the way
here even if he hadn't commanded me to keep perfectly still."

Natty returned at this moment and exclaimed, "Why, it is Mr. Barr. I
didn't recognize you before."

"Barr it is, young man. This gentleman is my friend, Mr. Blackmore. We
have been celebrating Victoria Day by a shooting tramp over Little
Bear. We hired a boat from Ford at the Harbour Head this morning--the
_Cockawee_, he called her--and sailed over. I don't know much about
running a boat, but Blackmore here thinks he does. We were at the
other side of the island when the fog came up. We hurried across it,
but it was almost dark when we reached our boat. We sailed around the
point and then the boat just simply upset--don't know why--"

"But I know why," interrupted Natty indignantly. "That _Cockawee_ does
nothing but upset. She has turned turtle twice out in