e, caught him by the collar of his shirt
and hauled him aboard the boat. Seizing the oars again, and pulling
safely free from danger of collision with the canoe, Bob hoisted sail,
brought the boat before the wind, and resuming his seat astern had his
first good look at his thus suddenly acquired passenger.

Shad, amidships, was engaged in drawing off his outer flannel shirt,
from which he coolly proceeded to wring, as thoroughly as possible,
the excess water, before donning it again.

Not a word had passed between them, and neither spoke until Shad had
readjusted his shirt, when, by way of opening conversation, Bob
remarked:

"You'm wet, sir."

"Naturally," admitted Shad. "I've been in the Bay, and the bay water
is surprisingly wet."

"Aye," agreed Bob, "'tis that."

"And surprisingly cold."

"Aye, 'tis wonderful cold."

"And I'm profoundly grateful to you for pulling me out of it."

"'Twere fine I comes up before your canoe founders, or I'm thinkin'
you'd be handy t' drownded by now."

"A sombre thought, but I guess you're right. A fellow couldn't swim
far or stick it out long in there," said Shad, waving his arm toward
the dark waters. "I'm sure I owe my life to you. It was lucky for me
you saw me."

"'Tweren't luck, sir; 'twere Providence. 'Twere th' Lord's way o'
takin' care o' you."

"Well, it was a pretty good way, anyhow. But where did you drop from?
I didn't see you till you threw me that line a few minutes ago."

"I were passin' t' wind'ard, sir, when I sights you, an' not knowin'
who 'twere, I sails close in till I makes you out as a stranger, an'
then you goes down an' I picks you up."

"That sounds very simple, but it was a good stunt, just the same, to
get me the line and come around in this chop the way you did, and then
haul me aboard before I knew what you were about--you kept your head
beautifully, and knew what to do--and you only a kid, too!" added
Shad, in surprise, as the moonlight fell full on Bob's face.

"A--kid?" asked Bob, not quite certain what "kid" might be.

"Yes--just a youngster--a boy."

"I'm seventeen," Bob asserted, in a tone which resented the imputation
of extreme youth. "You don't look much older'n that yourself."

"But I am--much older--I'm eighteen," said Shad, grinning. "My
name's Trowbridge--Shad Trowbridge, from Boston. What is your name?
Let's get acquainted," and Shad extended his hand.

"I'm Bob Gray, o' Wolf Bight," said Bob, taking Shad's hand.