“On the whole,” said the doctor, “I think you are acting right. You have a good end in view, and, what is very important, you are leaving home with your mother’s knowledge and with her permission. Were it otherwise, I should think you were acting decidedly wrong.”
“I should not think of leaving home without mother’s permission,” said Andy, promptly.
“Quite right, my boy,” said the doctor, kindly. “I am sorry to say that in these days of juvenile independence not all boys are so considerate. Well, Andrew, you have my best wishes for your success. I hope we may soon see you home again, and your uncle with you.”
“That is what I shall try for,” answered Andy. “I would like to get him out of the clutches of that man Brackett.”
On his way home, Andy did not take the most direct route, but, crossing the fields, walked along the shores of Brewster’s Pond—a sheet of water only half a mile across, but quite deep in parts.
As he reached the shore of the pond, he heard a scream, and, quickly looking round, saw a boat, bottom up, and a boy clinging desperately to it. The boat was only a hundred and fifty feet away.
Andy was an expert swimmer, and he did not hesitate a moment. Throwing off his coat, he plunged into the water and swam out to the boat with a strong and sturdy stroke.
He reached the boy just in time, for he was about to let go his hold, his strength having been overtaxed.
Then, for the first time, Andy saw that the boy whom he was attempting to rescue was Herbert Ross.
“Rest your hand on my shoulder, Herbert,” he said, “but don’t grasp me so that I can’t swim.”