that they heard the shouts from the rescue boat--the big Mackinaw
lifeboat--that had put out from the town with fourteen men at the
sweeps when they saw the first rockets go up.

I suppose there is always something inspiring about a rescue at sea,
or on the water.

After all, the bravery of the lifeboat man is the true
bravery,--expended to save life, not to destroy it.

Certainly they told for months after of how the rescue boat came out
to the Mariposa Belle.

I suppose that when they put her in the water the lifeboat touched it
for the first time since the old Macdonald Government placed her on
Lake Wissanotti.

Anyway, the water poured in at every seam. But not for a
moment,--even with two miles of water between them and the
steamer,--did the rowers pause for that.

By the time they were half-way there the water was almost up to the
thwarts, but they drove her on. Panting and exhausted (for mind you,
if you haven't been in a fool boat like that for years, rowing takes
it out of you), the rowers stuck to their task. They threw the
ballast over and chucked into the water the heavy cork jackets and
lifebelts that encumbered their movements. There was no thought of
turning back. They were nearer to the steamer than the shore.

"Hang to it, boys," called the crowd from the steamer's deck, and