"But, mercy, Chet!" squalled Prettyman Sweet, splashing madly. "I—I've swallowed—ugh!—so mu-mu-much water! Help!"
He went under again, for he could not swim. But Chet brought him up with a jerk, having still a hand upon the boy's collar.
"Stay up here!" growled Laura's brother. "Keep your face out of the water."
"But I want to, deah boy—dontcher know!" gasped Purt.
"Yes; you want to; but you want to talk, too. Keep your mouth shut, then you won't get water-logged," snapped Lance Darby, coming up on the other side.
"Oh! don't be harsh with him, boys," begged Dorothy Lockwood. "He's lost his boat."
"And that's his own fault. He would smoke a cigarette," said Chet, "and I told him the gasoline leaked."
"I wouldn't go in the old boat with him again for a farm down East with a pig on it!" declared Lance. "Now, easy! don't you dare swamp this canoe."
They made the almost helpless Purt seize the sharp stern of Laura's canoe with both hands. Then Chet swam beside him to keep him from dragging the girls' craft down, as Laura and Josephine Morse paddled for the shore of the island.
Lance followed on with the Lockwood canoe, and both reached the shore at about the same time. The Sweet boy struggled out upon the shore and lay down, almost overcome. But the other boys aided the girls in getting the cedar boats onto the shore, and out of harm's way.