“We’ll take the big launch and go out and bring them in,” he answered calmly. “Are you ready, Mr. Evans?”
“Quite so,” said Mr. Evans quietly, buttoning up his coat.
“Oh, let me go along,” begged the Captain.
“Let me go, too,” cried Sahwah, dancing up and down. “May I, Uncle Teddy? You said I might go out with you some time when the lake was rough.”
“Let us all go,” cried the Sandwiches.
Uncle Teddy waved them away. “No, no, what are you thinking of?” he said. “I can’t have the launch full. Besides, it’s too dangerous to go out now. We wouldn’t think of going if it were not for those people out there.” And as he was Chief there was no murmur at his decision.
As quickly as they could, Uncle Teddy and Mr. 33 Evans got the launch under way, and the watchers on the shore held their breaths as the light boat was dashed about on the waves, now climbing to a dizzy height, now sinking out of sight altogether. The sailing boat was in a sad plight when they reached her, for, in addition to being nearly capsized by every wave, she had sprung a leak and was filling gradually in spite of frantic bailing. The launch arrived just in time and took off the three sailors, landing them safely on shore some fifteen minutes later.
The man was dressed in white outing flannels and looked very distinguished in spite of his windblown appearance. The girl and boy were about thirteen years old and looked just alike. Both were pale and thin and had light hair and light blue eyes.
“This is Judge Dalrymple,” said Mr. Evans to the group eagerly waiting on the beach. (They would have guessed that he was at least a judge, anyway; he looked so dignified.) “And these are the twin Dalrymples, Antha and Anthony. Judge, this is my wife and that is Mrs. St. John, and the rest of the folks are the Tribe.”
“We are greatly indebted to your husbands for rescuing us,” said the judge with a courtly bow to the ladies.