"Hold fast to my shoulder, Nancy," he heard Dan cry. "I can float, and
I can swim a little. Keep thy nose above water and let thy feet go
where they will." Nancy, spluttering and gurgling, was trying hard to
follow Dan's directions, when the boat shot alongside, and a cheery
voice cried, "Ahoy, there! Come aboard, you young porpoises!"

To the children it was like a voice straight from heaven. Dan
immediately helped Nancy to get into the boat, and then she balanced
it while he climbed aboard.

When they were safely bestowed among the lobster-pots with which the
boat was laden, the man leaned on his oars and eyed them critically.
"Short of sense, ain't ye?" he remarked genially. "Nigh about drownded
that time or I 'm no skipper! If ye ain't bent on destruction ye 'd
better get into dry clothes. Ye 're as wet as a mess of drownded
kittens. Tell me where you live and I 'll take you home."

He flung a tarpaulin over the shivering figures and tucked it around
them as he scolded. "'T is all my fault," sobbed poor Nancy. "Dan came
in just to get me out."

"Very commendable of him, I 'm sure," said the stranger, nodding
approvingly at Dan, "and just what he 'd ought to do, and doubtless
you 're worth saving at that, though a hen-headeder young miss I never
see in all my days!"

"She went to find seaweed to bed the clams," explained Dan, coming to
his sister's defense, "and the tide caught her. Thou art kind indeed
to pick us up, sir."