"That white craft that belongs to Woodhull over yonder? I seed Lawton's boy get into her a half hour ago, and go off down the bay."

There was then but one thing to do, and Ray immediately did it. Leaving his bundles in a neighboring store, he started off on his seven miles' tramp down home. It was six o'clock when he reached there, and before he began his chores he went down to the point to see if he could see his boat anywhere down the harbor. Though he could not discover the vessel, he noticed one thing that rendered him anxious for its safety. Heavy clouds were already covering the sky, and there was every indication that the storm would soon burst forth.

A half hour later it suddenly grew dark, the lightning flashed sharply, followed by terrific peals of thunder. In the distance could be heard the roar of the wind and rain, which were fast approaching. Ray, followed by Mr. Woodhull and the hired man, left the barn where he was at work, and ran down to the little wharf near the house. He soon descried the boat quite a distance down the bay, but it was evidently making directly for the point. The only question was whether it would reach there before the squall struck.

Ray and his companions watched anxiously the boat's progress. A few minutes later it had arrived nearly opposite the point, and sheered around to run inside of it. They could now see Edward Lawton's face, as he, pale and frightened, watched the coming storm. Evidently he knew his danger, and was doing all he could to reach the shore before the tempest struck. Five minutes more, and he would be safe; would the squall hold off so long? No; it is coming; the trees on the point bowed before it, and the next instant it struck the boat. For a moment the little craft stood up bravely before the gale, and then as a tremendous gust struck it, it careened, struggled to right itself, then fell heavily over upon the tossing waves.

Through the heavy rain that was now falling, the anxious watchers looked for the boy, and they soon discerned him clinging in his desperation to the overturned boat. Another moment, and Ray sprang into the dory that lay at the wharf, and before he could be prevented, had seized the oars, and pulled off toward the unfortunate boy. The wind was in his favor, and though the dory was tossed like a cockle shell upon the waves, he slowly approached the capsized boat. It was evidently a hard struggle, but with bare head, and resolute face, the noble lad pulled on. Now he reached Edward, and with great difficulty drew him into the little boat.

The storm lulled for an instant, and, laying his exhausted companion down in the dory, Ray took advantage of the circumstance, and turned the tossing craft for the shore. Half the distance, under his vigorous stroke, was gained, when the wind, changing a point or two, swept down in greater fury upon them. It is seldom such a gust of wind is experienced in northern latitudes. Trees were overturned, the water was dashed high into the air, and even houses were unroofed, by that terrible blast. When it had passed, Mr. Woodhull arose from the ground to which he had fallen, and look for the dory. It lay capsized a few rods away, while Ray, with one arm supporting the unconscious form of Edward, was struggling to reach the shore. But his strength soon failed, and the huge waves rolled within the reach of Mr. Woodhull and his hired man—for both rushed into the angry waters—two unconscious forms.

An hour later, Mr. Woodhull, on a foaming horse, dashed up to Dr. Gasque's office, at Afton. Ten minutes after, the doctor drove his fleetest horse off toward Long Point, while Mr. Woodhull went on to Mr. Lawton's house. That gentleman and his wife, entering a close carriage, drove rapidly off through the raging storm after Mr. Woodhull, who had already turned his horse toward home. That was all Afton knew that night.

But the next morning, on Dr. Gasque's return home, the whole story came out. To the question anxiously asked on all sides, "How are the boys?" he gave the same answer:

"As well as could be expected under the circumstances, for I tell you both had a narrow escape. Edward Lawton can probably be brought home the first of the week. Ray will have to keep his bed a little longer. The boat, when it capsized, or some rock as he swam in with his exhausted comrade, has given him a fearful blow on the head. We shall pull him through, however."

Perhaps it was not intentional, but many a one at the First Church the next day thought of Edward and Ray, as Mr. Carleton read the words: