It was a small boy, apparently ten or twelve years of age, who had been rescued, and as the kindly men with tender care removed the icy clothing, they were startled, almost alarmed for the moment, by seeing a very small dog, his long white hair soaked with water, leap from beneath the lad’s tightly buttoned pea-jacket.
The animal shook itself, looked quickly around with a low whine, and, recognizing the boy, began eagerly licking his face, as if understanding that immediate aid of some kind was necessary.
The members of the crew had lost no time in taking such measures as were needful, and although the small dog growled furiously when they rolled the boy face downward, having previously laid him upon the floor of the station, the efforts at resuscitation were both skilful and vigorous.
Before the work had fairly begun the lad showed signs of life by opening his eyes, and his first glance fell upon the dog, which was standing near by, wagging its tail furiously as if to attract attention.
“I reckon he’s coming around all right,” Keeper Downey said in a tone of satisfaction, and then, noting the troubled look which suddenly came over the little fellow’s face, he asked quickly, “What is it, my son? What are you wanting?”
“Is Mrs. Clark here?”
“Who is she?”
“The captain’s wife.”
“She hasn’t come ashore yet; but you’re not to trouble your head about anything except getting the best of the salt water you’ve taken aboard.”
“You must be careful of Fluff until she gets here.”