The long swells hid the others from him.  Once, though, poised for a moment on the round summit of a bank of water, he glimpsed ere he descended into the green valley beyond, a darker spot ahead and so found his direction.  He knew better than to tire himself out by desperate strokes.  His only hope of getting there and getting back was to conserve his strength.  All sorts of thoughts came and went in a strange jumble.  Sometimes it seemed that he was making no progress, that the slow waves were bearing him remorselessly back to the cove, or, at least just defeating the strokes of his arms and legs.  Breathing became laboured and once a veritable panic seized him and it was all he could do to keep from turning and swimming wildly back toward shore.  Instead, though, fighting his fears, he turned on his back for a moment with his round face to the blue breeze-swept sky, and took long, grateful breaths of the sun-sweet air.  Above him a grey gull swept in a wide circle, uttering harsh, discordant cries.  Then, his panic gone, “Brownie” turned over again and struggled on with renewed strength and courage.  And suddenly, the long swells were behind him and there, but a few yards away, was Phil, Phil very white of face but as calm as ever.

He was swimming slowly on his side, one arm cleaving the water and the other supporting the nearly inert body of Joe.  “Here comes ‘Brownie,’” the rescuer heard him say cheerfully.  “All right now, Joe.  We’ll get you in in a jiffy!  Roll over, ‘Brownie,’ and get your breath,” he added.  “We’re all right for a minute.  That’s the trick.”

“I’m—­a bit—­tuckered,” gasped “Brownie,” as he lay and puffed with outstretched arms.

“Don’t blame you,” said Phil.  “How are you now, Joe?”

“Punk,” muttered the other.  “Don’t you fellows bother too much.  If you’ll just stay by for a minute or two—­I’ll be—­um—­all right, I guess.”

“No need to do that,” replied Phil quietly. “‘Brownie’ and I will take you between us.  Put a hand on my shoulder.  Easy, son!  That’s it.  Now the other on ‘Brownie’s.’  Right you are.  Just let yourself float.  Ready, ‘Brownie?’ Don’t hurry.  Easy does it.  We’ve got an eighth of a mile or so and there’s no use getting tired at the start.  I guess the tide will help us, though.”

There were no more words until the shore was nearly reached.  By that time “Brownie” was frankly all-in and Phil was in scarcely better condition.  Joe had so far recovered then, however, as to be able to aid weakly with his legs, and before they reached the channel half a dozen eager helpers splashed to their assistance.  Anxious questions were showered on them, but only Joe had the breath to answer them.

“I had a cramp,” he explained apologetically.  “It hit me all of a sudden out there.  It was fierce!”

“Legs?” asked Steve.

“No—­yes—­about everywhere below my shoulders.  It seemed to start in my tummy.  I got sort of sick all over.  Thought—­um—­thought I was a goner until—­”