"Coming, Peter!" shouted Carline.
This time Craddock did not forbid him. He was only half conscious that his chum was shouting, until Carline's head and shoulders appeared above the flame-tinged smoke.
"Let go!" bawled Carline. "I've got him."
Peter let go. Like a sack of flour the bulky figure of Mr. Snodburry vanished. There was a crash and the ladder disappeared.
Summoning up his last remaining strength Peter jumped and landed on his hands and feet upon the soft turf.
Carline, with his left arm dangling helplessly, was dragging the rescued man clear ... Brass helmets glinted in the firelight ... That was the last Peter remembered until he found himself in bed.
The two Sea Scouts admitted next afternoon that they hadn't done so badly and had got off lightly. Peter was slightly burnt about the legs and had had the greater part of his hair and eyebrows singed off; Carline had his left arm in splints with a fracture of the wrist. They were in the Cottage Hospital, and in an adjoining bed was Mr. Horatio Snodburry, whose neck had been saved at the expense of Carline's wrist.
True to his trust, Peter, declaring that he felt quite all right, went on board the Thetis that evening, where he was warmly greeted by Rex. Next day Mr. Clifton returned and Carline was sent home to Aberstour by train.
According to the usual run of things, Mr. Horatio Snodburry ought to have gratefully thanked the Sea Scouts for saving his life, and by virtue of his escape ought to have lived for ever afterwards in love and charity with his neighbours. But he did neither. Perhaps his mind was still rankling over the pound that he might have got had the Sea Scouts not assisted in recovering Farmer Thorley's ducks.