"You are a careless fellow, John," he cried. "You didn't make fast the boat."
"That's too bad, Paul; I didn't mean to do that," replied John, vexed at the accident.
"I don't suppose you did; but you are careless."
"I thought I made her fast. What shall we do, Paul? I would rather given anything than had this happen."
"So would I; but there is no use of crying about it. There isn't a skiff within half a mile of here."
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Paul," said John, putting down the jug and throwing off his jacket. "I'll swim out to her and scull her in."
Paul made no objection to this plan, and in half a minute more, John had stripped and was swimming with all his might after the boat, which was perhaps fifty rods from the shore. He was a vigorous swimmer, as self-possessed in the water as on the land, and his brother had no fears in regard to his safety, or his ability to reach the boat.
It did not take the little fellow long to catch the boat, and the accident did not make more than half an hour's delay. The stores were taken on board, and before John had time to dress himself, the boat was under sail, and working slowly down the bay. A light breeze from the west had sprung up, and a gentle ripple at the bow assured the young fisherman that everything was progressing in a satisfactory manner.
"I should like to be a fisherman, Paul," said John, who sat on the bottom of the boat opening clams for bait.
"Perhaps you may be one of these days," replied Paul, moodily. "I think I shall do something in that line right off."