"You bet," concurred Jack, very heartily—"cold as ice! What business has the water to be so cold on such a broiling day as this?" "Oh, it’s just a little way it has," said Frank. "But cold or not cold, I’m going out to the middle." And with a powerful overhand stroke he ploughed his way through the rippled brine, his shoulders gleaming white as he bent to his work. Jack, using the ordinary breast stroke, kept close up to him, and they worked too hard to do much talking until the centre of the Arm was reached, and they could see the whole beautiful sheet of water from end to end. Then they paused, and Frank, saying he was beginning to feel tired, turned over on his back for a little rest, Jack forthwith imitating his example. "Sakes alive, but this water is cold!" cried Jack. "If we stay in it much longer we’ll be getting the cramps. Let’s make for the shore." "All right! Go ahead; I’m after you," replied Frank. Jack accordingly turned his face shoreward, and, trying the side stroke now, was making pretty good progress, having got about half-way in, when a cry from Frank, who was a few yards behind, made him stop suddenly and wheel round to see what was the matter. "Come here, Jack," said Frank, in a troubled voice. And Jack immediately went back to him. "What’s the matter, old chap?" asked he anxiously "Why," answered Frank, "I seem to be losing all my strength. See! I can hardly take a stroke." And, sure enough, his strength seemed to have left him. and instead of the wide, powerful sweeps he usually made, he could manage to do little more than paddle enough with his hands to keep his head afloat. The fact of the matter was that he had been seized with muscular cramp, and was in great danger, for there was no boat in sight, and the shore lay nearly fifty yards away, with water deep enough between to swallow an ocean steamer. Jack fully realized the danger, but was too sensible to say so. Taking a firm, grasp of Frank’s right shoulder with his left hand, he said cheerily,— "Come along now; I’ll give you a lift." Then, putting forth all his strength, he pushed Frank forward; while the latter could just manage to keep his head above water, and pointed in the right direction. In this fashion they crept slowly along, Frank growing more helpless and Jack more tired every yard. Frank now could not even keep his mouth above water, for the deadly cramp was drawing him all together, his back being bent like a bow, and his arms and legs contracted until they were almost altogether useless. Jack, too, began to feel the cruel cold fastening upon him, and his strength departing from him. His heart sank as he looked at the distance still ahead, and felt himself weakening at every stroke. In his extremity, the temptation to let go of Frank, and strike for the shore alone, even flashed into his mind, only to be contemptuously dismissed with the silent resolution to stay by his friend whatever happened.