And on against wind and current Shag battled his way; inch by inch, foot by foot, yard by yard he forged forward, until he saw Hal loose his grip and sink, and then rise and fight to reach the canoe again.  It was then that Shag raised his chin and shouted hoarsely, “Keep up, Hal, keep up!  I’m coming!” the words that faintly reached Hal’s ears before the silence and the dark came.  Then as he rose from the depths, an unconscious, helpless hulk, a strong tan-colored arm wound around him like a lifebelt, and a well-nigh breathless boy, with almost superhuman strength, flung him, limp and nearly lifeless, across the canoe.  The impact almost hurled Freddy from his slender hold, but for a few seconds the two boys were safe.  Above the slippery bow poor Shag clasped his arms, allowing his body to drift.

With but this frail anchorage, he well knew that the canoe would never float them all.  There was but little of her above the water.  The waves were beating hard now; any moment weak little Freddy and unconscious Hal might be swept off.  Once, as the fear of losing life gripped him, he began to struggle on to the canoe; then he remembered, and slipped back to float, to cling, to slowly—­slowly—­await the horrors of the unknown.

For five terrible minutes they drifted, minutes that were an eternity to those on shore, and to those fighting for life in mid-stream.  Then around the bend of the island came the thin, shrill whistle of a steam launch as it headed directly for the upturned canoe, the skipper signalling to those on the island that he was hot on the way to the rescue.

Old Professor Warwick wept like a woman when he saw it fly past, and the boys gulped back their breath.  They dared not even try to cheer; their voices were strangled in their throats.

“Just in time, and that’s all, captain,” said the engineer as he brought the launch about.  “Better reach for the chap in the water first.”

“No,” Shag managed to say, “take the kiddie; he’s slipping off.  I’m good for a minute longer.”  So they lifted Freddy into the launch, then poor unconscious Hal, and lastly Shag, exhausted but gritty and game to the last.

Hal had been in his own bed for two hours before he spoke, and the first word he said was “Freddy?”

“Freddy’s here,” trembled Professor Warwick, “here safe and sound, and you’re safe, too.”

“I dreamt I heard Shag call, call that he was coming to me,” said Hal feebly.

“It was no dream, Hal,” answered the Professor; “he did call and went to you, saved you, swam out like the prince he is—­saved you, Hal, saved you!” Hal started up, his eyes wild with fear.

“Where is he?  Where’s Shag?” he demanded.

“Here, Hal,” said the Indian from the opposite side of the room.

Hal stretched out his hand; Shag walked very shakily across and clasped it within his own.

“If you hadn’t been here, Shag, I could never have looked dad and mother in the face again,” he sighed.