"Not much—only up to my knees. I was just going to jump in and swim for it when you called to me. Well, here goes for bailing."
"Yes, and if you shift that anchor back to the stern it will raise the bow, and the hole will be so much more out of water. It'll row easier, too."
"Right you are, my hearty. Shiver my timbers! But it's some excitement we've been having!" and Andy laughed.
"Say, I believe you'd joke if your boat was all smashed to pieces, and you were floating around on the back of the whale," observed Frank gravely.
"Of course I would. A miss is as good as a mile and a half. But if I can find my other oar I'll help you row in your boat. It ought to be somewhere around here," and Andy ceased his bailing operations to cast anxious looks over the rolling waves.
"Yes, we'll look for it after we get some of the water out of your craft. I can't get over what a close call you had," and, in spite of the fact that he had been in many dangerous places in his life, Frank could not repress a shudder.
"Oh, forget it!" good-naturedly advised Andy, vigorously tossing water out of his boat with a tin can. "Hello! There's my lost oar out there. Put me over."
"All right," agreed Frank. "I think we've got enough water out so she'll ride high. Now for the dock."
"I guess you'll win the race," observed the younger lad, half regretfully, as he recovered his ashen blade.
"Oh, we'll call it off," said Frank good-naturedly. "We'll have something to tell the folks when we get back to the cottage; eh?"