"He—he's breathing—anyhow," said Mollie, softly.
"Yes, we—we must lift him up," spoke Betty. "Come on."
They exposed the pale and drawn face of the youth on the raft. At the sight of it Grace, who with Amy was leaning breathlessly over the side of the boat, uttered a cry.
"It's Will!" she screamed, half-hysterically. "It's my brother Will!"
Betty and Mollie started back, and nearly let the limp body slip off the raft.
"What—what!" cried Betty, for the figure of the youth bore no resemblance to Will; nor did the features. But the eyes of a sister were not to be deceived.
"It is Will!" she cried. "I have been hoping and praying all the while that it might be he—and it is. It's Will!"
She would have gotten down to the raft had not Amy restrained her.
"I believe it is Will," said Mollie, taking a closer look. "We have found him."
"Then let's get him aboard at once, and help him," said practical Betty. "Amy, start that coffee. Grace, you help us! And Harry, too!"