side of a situation; and it was the skipper's daughter who insisted
that the family boat-hook, then in use as a harpoon for spearing dollar
bills, should be devoted to the less profitable but humaner end of
extricating the young man from a watery grave.

The skipper had grumbled a bit at first, but had given way--he always
spoiled the girl--with the result that Sam found himself sitting on the
deck of the tug engaged in the complicated process of restoring his
faculties to the normal. In a sort of dream he perceived Mr. Swenson
rise to the surface some feet away, adjust his Derby hat, and, after
one long look of dislike in his direction, swim off rapidly to intercept
a five which was floating under the stern of a near-by skiff.

Sam sat on the deck and panted. He played on the boards like a public
fountain. At the back of his mind there was a flickering thought that
he wanted to do something, a vague feeling that he had some sort of an
appointment which he must keep; but he was unable to think what it was.
Meanwhile, he conducted tentative experiments with his breath. It was
so long since he had last breathed that he had lost the knack of it.

"Well, aincher wet?" said a voice.

The skipper's daughter was standing beside him, looking down
commiseratingly. Of the rest of the family all he could see was the
broad blue seats of their trousers as they leaned hopefully over the
side in the quest for wealth.

"Yessir! You sure are wet! Gee! I never seen anyone so wet! I seen wet
guys, but I never seen anyone so wet as you. Yessir, you're certainly
_wet_!"