The boat began to advance as if the dead cod-fish had become live ones and were lending their strength to the oarsmen.
"Good!" thought the rescuer in the water, who saw between him and the far-off, level, misty sky-line a boat and the backs of two fishermen. "Hold on there!" he said encouragingly to Bartie; "there's a boat coming!"
The help did not arrive any too soon. Bartie's hands were resting lightly on his rescuer's shoulders, and he was arguing if he could not throw his arms around the neck of his beloved object, whether it might not be well to relinquish his feeble, tired hold altogether, and drop back into the soft, yielding depths of the water all about him; such an easy bed to lie down in! Life had given him so many hard berths. This seemed a relief.
"Ho, there you are!" shouted Dan, as the boat came up. He seized Bartie, while Bill Bagley gripped the other boy, and both Bartie and his companion were hauled into the boat, rather roughly, and somewhat after the fashion of cod-fish, but effectually.
"Now, Dan, let us pull for that cove and land our cargo!" said Bill. "You boys can walk home? We have got to go to the other side and take our fish to town."
"Oh yes," said the rescuer.
"I--I--can--walk!" exclaimed the shivering Bartie.
"Ah, youngster, you came pretty near not walking ag'in if it hadn't been for t'other chap."
This made Bartie feel at first very sober, and then he looked very grateful as he turned toward his rescuers and said,--
"I--thank--you all. I--I--I'll do as--much for you--some time."