"We have a boat," said Jimmy, "on the other side of that channel, but our motor is dead. The only thing we can do is to take you aboard her and wait till morning, or till some search party comes out for us."
At this Peters sank down on the rock and covered his face with his hand. "I can't swim that channel," he cried. "I don't dare try it. It serves me right. I put up a game to beat you this afternoon and was so ashamed of it afterward that I didn't stay a minute, but jumped into my boat and put out for home——"
"And were caught in the storm?" interrupted Frank.
"Yes. The wind kicked up such a sea that I couldn't cross it and had to run ahead of it. I tried to get around in the lee of this rock, but the wind drove me onto a ledge out there and knocked a hole in the bottom of the boat, and she sank."
"And you swam here?"
"Yes, we were barely able to make it. We crawled up here and laid down till the storm went over. We've been here yelling ever since."
"The storm drove every one in, so there wasn't much chance of your being heard. The wind, blowing in the direction it did, carried your voices out to sea. We barely heard you, although we were quite near," said Frank.
"You were awfully good to come to us. I'm sorry I played such a dirty trick on you. Will you forgive me?" and Peters held out his hand.
"That's all right, Peters," said Frank, grasping the outstretched hand. "Forget about it. You could probably have beaten me, anyway."
"No, I couldn't," said the repentant Peters. "I hated you for winning last year and I wanted to make sure you wouldn't this year. Oh, I'm ashamed of myself," and Peters hung his head. "I don't want the prize for that race, and I won't take it."