"Do you know you've saved our lives?" she remarked after a short silence.
"I can never thank you enough for what you have done for us to-day. I
don't think I could have clung to that boat much longer."

"I ain't done nuthin'," Dan replied. "But next time you go out don't carry
so much sail, specially when it's squally. I mayn't always be handy like I
was to-day. But come, we're at the pint, so I'll land you here." Saying
which, Dan let the sail go free, and ran the boat gently up the pebbly
shore.

"Now, my boy," asked the man, "how much do I owe you?" Dan had stooped and
was about to push the _Scud_ from the beach. He looked up quickly at
the question, but made no reply.

"How much?" demanded the man, somewhat impatiently.

"What do you mean?" asked the boy.

"What do I mean? Simply this. You've done us a great service, saved us
from death, and how much money do you want? How much shall I pay you?"

"Nuthin'."

Dan was standing erect now. His dark eyes fixed full upon the man's face,
flashed with anger, while his heart thumped tumultuously beneath his
little checkered shirt.

"What! won't take any pay!"

"No!"