The canoeist opened his eyes and looked up at the woman who was now kneeling beside him. He tried to raise himself on his elbow, but sank back, gasping for a few moments.
“Hello, Mother! I—I’m all right,” he said presently. “Just a minute, till I get my breath back. Hope I haven’t scared you, but I—I wasn’t going to drown.”
Then he sat up, somewhat limply, and looked around. The captain, with water running from his clothing, was assisting George to recover the canoe and paddle. As soon as this had been accomplished, he turned his attention to the boy he had rescued, and for the first time recognized him.
“Well, how do you feel?” Jack asked, bearing no ill feeling.
“Pretty fair, thanks,” replied the other. “I think I’m still full up to the neck with water, though. I’m awfully obliged to you. I tried to catch hold of the paddle, but I couldn’t quite make it. Then I saw your boat coming, but it seemed ever so far away. I’d have been—” he was going to say “drowned by now,” but checked himself as his mother was there—“down there yet if you hadn’t come to the rescue.”
“That’s all right,” Jack replied. “Glad to have been able to help.” Then, as the canoeist seemed to have almost recovered, he added: “Only—only, just as a favor, don’t laugh at this boat again, please!”
A puzzled look came into the other’s face.
“Laugh at her?” he queried.
“Yes,” replied Jack, “and you said she was a queer sort of boat to use for a ferry.”