“Get him aboard, if you can.  Don’t mind me; I’m all right.”

Arthur reached down and drew a slight, boyish form over the gunwale, while Patsy clasped Maud’s hand and helped the girl over the side.  She was still strong, but panted from her exertions to support the boy.

“Who is it?” inquired Patsy, as Arthur headed the boat for the shore.

Maud shook her head, leaning forward to look at the face of the rescued one for the first time.

“I’ve never seen him before,” she said.  “Isn’t it too bad that I reached him too late?”

Patsy nodded, gazing at the white, delicate profile of the young fellow as he lay lifeless at her feet.  Too late, undoubtedly; and he was a mere boy, with all the interests of life just unfolding for him.

Their adventure had now been noticed by some of the bathers, who crowded forward to meet the boat as it grounded on the beach.  Uncle John, always keeping an eye on his beloved nieces, had noted every detail of the rescue and as a dozen strong men pulled the boat across the sands, beyond the reach of the surf, the Merrick automobile rolled up beside it.

“Now, then!” cried the little man energetically, and with the assistance of his chauffeur he lifted the lifeless form into the car.

“The hospital?” said Patsy, nodding approval.

“Yes,” he answered.  “No; you girls can’t come in your wet bathing suits.  I’ll do all that can be done.”

Even as he spoke the machine whirled away, and looking after it Maud said, shaking her head mildly:  “I fear he’s right.  Little can be done for the poor fellow now.”

“Oh, lots can be done,” returned Patsy; “but perhaps it won’t bring him back to life.  Anyhow, it’s right to make every attempt, as promptly as possible, and certainly Uncle John didn’t waste any time.”

Beth and Florence now joined them and Louise came running up to ask eager questions.

“Who was it, Patsy?”

“We don’t know.  Some poor fellow who got too far out and had a cramp, perhaps.  Or his strength may have given out.  He didn’t seem very rugged.”

“He was struggling when first I saw him,” said Maud.  “It seemed dreadful to watch the poor boy drowning when hundreds of people were laughing and playing in the water within earshot of him.”

“That was the trouble,” declared Arthur Weldon.  “All those people were intent on themselves and made so much noise that his cries for help could not be heard.”

The tragedy, now generally known, had the effect of sobering the bathers and most of them left the water and trooped to the bathhouses to dress.  Mrs. Montrose advised the girls to get their clothes on, as all were shivering—­partly from nervousness—­in their wet bathing suits.

They were ready an hour before Mr. Merrick returned, and his long absence surprised them until they saw his smiling face as he drove up in his car.  It gave them a thrill of hope as in chorus they cried: