"Get close and we'll haul you in!" called Tom Reade, a boat-hook
in his hand.

"Is Dan drowned!" demanded a dozen voices.

"Don't ask questions now!" cried Tom Reade impatiently, without
looking about him. "Keep quiet! It's a time for work."

Abashed, the questioners became silent. Tom caught the boat-hook
through the collar of Dan's flannel shirt. With the aid of the
launch's helmsman Reade drew Dan in and got him aboard. Young
Dalzell's eyes were closed, nor did he speak.

Then Dick and Dave were pulled aboard the launch.

"Dan didn't seem to be able to free himself," Darrin explained
breathlessly. "His foot was wedged under a cleat in the canoe."

"Carry Dan aft," ordered Dick, while he was still clambering over
the rail. "Lay him face down."

Then, drenched as he was, Dick hastened aft, where he directed
others how to pat Dan on the back and to work his arms.

"We've got to get that water off his lungs," Dick explained.
"Don't stop working for a moment. I wish we had a barrel to roll
him on!"

"We will have soon," replied the launch's helmsman, rushing back