"The boat!" suddenly exclaimed Tom, making a dash for the pond that ran along at the foot of a steep hill.
"There he is! There he is!" the brother yelled, as getting over the edge of the hill Tom was now in full view of the pond.
"And in the boat," called Harry, close at Tom's heels.
"He's drifting away!" screamed Bert. "Oh, quick, save him!"
Just as the boys said, the little fellow was in the boat and drifting.
He did not seem to realize his danger, for as he floated along he ran his little fat hand through the water as happily as if he had been in a steam launch, talking to the captain.
"Can you swim?" the boys asked Bert, who of course had learned that useful art long ago.
"She's quite a long way out," Tom said,
"But we must be careful not to frighten him. See, he has left the oars here. Bert and I can carry one out and swim with one hand. Harry and Jack, can you manage the other?"
The boys said they could, and quickly as the heaviest clothes could be thrown off they were striking out in the little lake toward the baby in the boat. He was only Freddie's age, you know, and perhaps more of a baby than the good-natured Bobbsey boy.