ten ten sticks tobacco" to the boy who first heard "pickaninny dog sing
out."

* * * * *

Jerry was in bad shape. Not accustomed to swimming, strangled by the
salt water that lapped into his open mouth, he was getting loggy when
first he chanced to see the flash of the captain's torch. This, however,
he did not connect with Skipper, and so took no more notice of it than he
did of the first stars showing in the sky. It never entered his mind
that it might be a star nor even that it might not be a star. He
continued to wail and to strangle with more salt water. But when he at
length heard Skipper's voice he went immediately wild. He attempted to
stand up and to rest his forepaws on Skipper's voice coming out of the
darkness, as he would have rested his forepaws on Skipper's leg had he
been near. The result was disastrous. Out of the horizontal, he sank
down and under, coming up with a new spasm of strangling.

This lasted for a short time, during which the strangling prevented him
from answering Skipper's cry, which continued to reach him. But when he
could answer he burst forth in a joyous yelp. Skipper was coming to take
him out of the stinging, biting sea that blinded his eyes and hurt him to
breathe. Skipper was truly a god, his god, with a god's power to save.

Soon he heard the rhythmic clack of the oars on the thole-pins, and the
joy in his own yelp was duplicated by the joy in Skipper's voice, which
kept up a running encouragement, broken by objurgations to the rowers.

"All right, Jerry, old man. All right, Jerry. All right.--Washee-washee,
you fella boy!--Coming, Jerry, coming. Stick it out, old man. Stay with