CHAPTER XI
PIRATES IN TROUBLE
"Hi! Captain Bannister!" I shouted, "hi!"
Someone—not the Captain, but a boy in a blue shirt—looked up from the wheel. Then I heard Mr. Snider come crashing and floundering through the underbrush, so I waded into the water until I was waist-deep and then struck out to swim. Before I had made a dozen strokes Mr. Snider emerged, and ran down to the water's edge.
But I had no idea he would follow me now. He didn't look like a person who could swim,—nor even like one who enjoyed cold water much. I glanced back at him over my shoulder,—he was simply standing there, gazing after me, and rubbing his hands together excitedly, clasping and unclasping them.
"Captain Bannister!" I called out again, "the Hoppergrass! Wait!"
The boy who was steering put the helm over a trifle, altering the course of the boat a little more in my direction. Another boy came up from below, and stood there staring at me. In three minutes I was alongside, and reaching out for the tender.
"Let me come aboard!" I gasped,—"that man—"
But I was too much winded to say anything more. With some difficulty—for I had been swimming harder than was necessary—I crawled into the tender, and sat down to get my breath. As I sat there, one of the boys said:
"Why, that's Mr. Snider!"