"I'll do it, if you don't care to," answered Dave. "A cold plunge will do me good."
"I'll help, if you say so?" volunteered Phil.
"Never mind, Phil; I think I can do it alone. No use in more than one undressing."
The rowboat had been sunk in water three feet deep. Taking off most of his clothing, and also his shoes and socks, Dave waded into the cove and set to work taking the stones out of the craft. It was certainly cold, and only the heavy labor served to keep his blood in circulation.
"They didn't pound a hole in her, did they?" asked the senator's son, anxiously.
"I don't see any hole," answered Dave. "I'll soon know. There aren't many more stones left."
He had great difficulty in budging the bottom stone, the largest of the lot. But, once this was removed, the boat was quite buoyant and came close to the surface. Then Dave shoved the craft close to shore, and turned it over to empty it.
"As good as ever!" cried Roger, and his tones showed his relief. "Now, Dave, get into your clothes again, and Phil and I will row you back to the Hall. We'll be late—and you know what that means, if Job Haskers catches us."
"We've got a good excuse," said Phil. "But maybe Haskers won't accept it," he added, remembering only too well how harsh and unreasonable the second assistant teacher could be at times.
"I think I'll do some of the rowing myself, just to get warm," said Dave, when they got into the craft, and he took an oar; and soon Bush Island was left behind.