“Yes, ma'am, barring the wetting.”
“It was brave of you to go down after Mabel.”
“Indeed it was!” cried that young lady. “If it hadn't been for you I might have been drowned.” And she gave a deep shudder.
“I saw she was caught and that's why I went over after her,” answered our hero simply. “It wasn't so much to do.”
All dripping as he was, Joe caught up the oars of the boat and sent the craft in the direction of the hotel at a good speed. That she might not take cold, a shawl was thrown over Mabel's wet shoulders.
The arrival of the party at the hotel caused a mild sensation. Mabel hurried to her room to put on dry clothing, and Joe was directed to go around to the kitchen. But when the proprietor of the place had heard what Joe had done for his niece he sent the lad to a private apartment and provided him with dry clothing belonging to another who was of our hero's size.
“That was a fine thing to do, young man,” said the hotel proprietor, when Joe appeared, dressed in the dry garments, and his own clothing had been sent to the laundry to be dried and pressed.
“I'm glad I was there to do it, Mr. Mallison.”
“Let me see, aren't you Hiram Bodley's boy?”
“I lived with Mr. Bodley, yes.”