"What's the matter, Edward?" asked the Hon. Mr. Montague, who had remained on board of the Penobscot, being too old to scramble about the rocks.
"I have been overboard, grandfather," replied Grace, with a faint smile; and it was evident that her condition was rapidly improving.
"Overboard, child!" exclaimed the old gentleman. "How did it happen?"
"I don't know. I was not with her," replied the colonel. "But where is that boy?"
"That boy" has just come on deck, and had seated himself in the waist. He had recovered his wind, and was now nearly as good as new. He felt that he had done a big thing, and he wondered that no one said anything to him. The boat that brought him to the yacht had gone for the party which had been left on the island; and no one but the colonel knew anything about the part he had borne in the affair. But he was not long neglected, for the instant Colonel Montague thought of him he hastened to the waist, and with tears in his eyes, grasped him by the hand. Doubtless he betrayed more emotion than the occasion seemed to warrant—emotion which was not all gratitude.
"My lad, you have done me a service which I can never forget," said he, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"It's all right, sir. I feel better than if I hadn't done it," replied Bobtail.
"But come aft, and see Grace," added the colonel.
"No, sir, I think I won't bother her now. She must feel pretty bad after the ducking she got."
Just at this moment the barge from Blank Island dashed up to the steps. Mrs. Montague was a demonstrative woman, and she had not even yet ceased to scream.