"No, though I would if I had to," Dick replied. "I'm just going to haul him up by the rope. Keep a good hold, old boy!" he encouraged his pet, and Grit gurgled his answer.
And then Dick, leaning over the edge of the deck, while Paul sat on his backward-stretched legs to hold him in place, hauled up the bulldog hand over hand, by means of the rope the intelligent animal had so fortunately grasped.
Inch by inch Grit was raised until Larry, who had come to the edge to help Dick, reached out, and helped to haul the dog in.
"There he is!" cried Dick, as he slid back.
"Well, old boy, you had a close call!"
Grit let go the rope and barked. And then a strange fit of trembling seized him. It was the first time he had ever showed fear. He never ventured near the edge of the deck again, always taking a position as near the centre as possible, and lying down at full length, to prevent any danger of sliding off. And he never went out on the deck unless Dick went also, feeling, I suppose, that he wanted his master near in case of accidents.
"Say, that was some little excitement," remarked the young millionaire, as he wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. "I thought poor old Grit was sure a goner."
"It did look so," admitted Paul. "He's an intelligent beast, all right."
"Takes after me," laughed Dick. "Well, let's see how Innis made out while we were at the rescue."
"I was all ready to send her down quick, if you'd given the word," said the cadet in the pilot house, when the party went inside the cabin.