Aided by the life-belt he was wearing, the boy struck out, gasping. At one instant he came to the surface and took a choking breath. The next moment another swirling breaker had caught and overwhelmed him again. His mouth, ears, and nose were full of water. He was rolling over and over and the last of his strength was fast ebbing away. When his head emerged from the foam the thunder of the surf sounded fainter, as though it were drifting away into the distance. Vaguely he wondered what his dad and Aunt Martha were doing, far away at home; but his thoughts were disconnected. He felt an inclination to sleep, although he was being smothered all the time. If only he could get one more breath! For a flash he returned fully to consciousness, when a sharp pain shot through his knee as it struck a rock. Then came forgetfulness. CHAPTER VIII IN WHICH DAVE FINDS A FRIEND When the boy opened his eyes again he was lying full length on the sand, some distance above the water’s edge. A man was bending over him. “Where am I?” Dave asked, still dazed. “Here,” the man replied, with a curious smile. “Where’s here?” “Where you’ve no right to be, judging by the way you and your friends chose to come ashore. Really, you ought all to be drowned.” “I remember now,” said Dave. “Are the others all right?” “Four of them are fit to return to their jolly old families,” the man replied. “Don’t worry about the others till you feel a bit better. Can you stand up?” Dave tried to get on his legs, but his knee hurt him considerably. He looked at his companion attentively for the first time. The man was shabbily clothed and did not appear to have shaved for days. His hair was crying aloud for the attention of a pair of scissors, and his shoes consisted chiefly of holes and cracks. There was something about his face, however, which was not in keeping with his odd attire, in spite of its unshaven condition. His eyes were clear and intelligent, but they had a lazy look, as though care sat with difficulty on his shoulders. Humorous lines were drawn about the corners of his mouth, which was good-tempered but too easy-going. His tattered clothes were flapping in the wind, wet through. “You fetched me out of the water?” Dave asked wearily. “I took that liberty,” was the reply. “I wasn’t doing anything else just then, and I kind of guessed you might prefer it that way.” “I’m ever so grateful,” the boy said. “Where are the others?” “Gone up to the farm,” the man replied, waving his arm airily in the direction of some trees. “You had better come along too. You ought to have something hot to drink.” “Was MacTavish saved?” Dave asked. “If you mean a Scottish gentleman with a fiery light in his eyes, an accent you can cut with a knife, and an infinite flow of language on the subject of some mysterious engines, yes.”