Gasping and choking, from their sudden and unexpected bath, the boys came to the surface of the water. They were all good swimmers, and, fortunately had on only thin shirts and light trousers—almost bathing suits, in fact.
"Grab the oars!" called Sammy.
"And don't let the boat get away!" added Frank.
"There go the crabs!" shouted Bob, as he saw the basket containing their catch sail away on the tide, the crabs scrambling out, rejoicing in their unexpected liberty.
"Too late! We can't save 'em—have to catch some more!" called Bob. "Get the oars and the boat!"
"Going to right the boat?" asked Frank, as he swam to get a drifting oar.
"No, it's too much work here. Let's swim with her down to the lighthouse dock, pull her out there, and dump the water out. Then we can row home."
It was good advice; and the best and easiest thing to do. With the recovered oars, and their crab nets, the boys swam along toward shore, pushing the boat ahead of them. The water was not over their heads, and soon they could wade.
"Had an upset; didn't you?" called Mr. Floyd, the light-keeper, who was at the dock as the boys came along.
"Sort of," admitted Sammy, ruefully.
"Lost all our crabs, too," added Frank.
"Yes, and mother won't like it," put in Bob. "She was counting on 'em for salad for supper."
"Never mind, as long as you're all right," advised the light-keeper. "And as for crabs, I've been amusing myself catching a mess this morning. I've got more than I want, and I'll let you have some. Big ones they are, too. Where you been?"
They told him, and then, in a sudden burst of confidence, Sammy related about the strange old man, and told of how he had driven them away from his cottage.
