"Here, Mid! Take the hel-lum!" cried Kingdon.
He had already kicked off his canvas shoes. As his roommate seized the tiller, Rex poised on the dipping rail and took a long dive. He merely skimmed under the surface of the water, rising directly beside the overturned canoe.
"'Ray! Rex! King! King!" cheered Peewee from the shore. "That's the lad!"
Midkiff brought the catboat sharply around, and shut off the engine. Kingdon had seized the now weakly struggling Quibb.
"Let him go—I've got him," he advised Horace Pence. "The boys will give you a hand over the rail, and then we'll get this fellow aboard."
But Pence needed no help, once freed of the incubus of Enos Quibb. He scrambled aboard, while Kingdon raised the constable so Red and Cloudman could get hold of him.
"Oh, boys! boys!" gasped Enos. "I'm drownded!"
Kingdon was laughing at him as he climbed aboard. "You would have been, all right, if it hadn't been for Blacky here," he said. "You want to remember him in your will, Mr. Squibb."
"Quibb," corrected Enos faintly.
"Excuse me, Fibb. Hold on, Pence! Where you going?" asked the Walcott Hall youth as the black-browed one started forward with the boathook.