Before the words had fairly left Oscar's lips, one of the oars was unshipped and placed in his hands.
The sail-boat had been upset through the ignorance or carelessness of her skipper. The latter, becoming dissatisfied with the very slow progress he was making, had brought his craft around upon the other tack, but he did not change his own position.
He pushed the boom over his head as it swung around, and, instead of moving over to the windward side, he kept his seat on the leeward gunwale, and his own weight, added to the weight of the sail and the pressure of the wind against the canvas, overturned the boat before he could think twice.
"If you ever pulled in your life, pull now!" exclaimed Oscar, as he shipped his oar and tugged at it until he fairly made things snap.
"You're stroke; do your level best!" cried Sam. "You'll not drive your end of the boat ahead of mine, I'll promise you that."
Oscar's skiff had never travelled so rapidly under the "white-ash breeze" before. The boys being both good oarsmen, knew how to make every stroke tell, and they brought all their strength and skill into requisition.
Guided by Sam, who sat in the bow, and looked over his shoulder occasionally to make sure of her course, the Katie flew over the waters like a wild-fowl, on the wing, and in much less time than the boys had expected, she came up with and passed the overturned boat, which was floating, bottom up, with the current.
The young hunters ceased rowing, and, springing to their feet, looked in every direction. They could see nobody, and the fear that, after all their efforts, they had arrived too late to save the luckless skipper of the sail-boat was already half formed in their minds, when a shrill, piping voice called to them from the water:
"This way, if you please. I have met with a most untoward accident, and I believe I am in need of a little assistance."