“Hang onto the boat,” Hervey cried. Then he said to me, “Keep calling so I’ll know where you are. Don’t try to move, you don’t know which way you’re going. Just let her stand as long as we can’t row. She won’t go far, only keep calling. All right, I’m with you,” he shouted. Then, before I could say anything he had jumped into the water and was swimming off. The mist just swallowed him up and in a few seconds I couldn’t see him at all, only hear the sound as he swam and that voice somewhere. “Here I am,” I kept calling. And sometimes I gave the Silver Fox call (that’s the call of my patrol) so he would know where I was. But somewhere another voice kept giving the same calls and I knew it was an echo and maybe he wouldn’t know what way to go when he started back. Every time I called the echo called too, from somewhere far off. Pretty soon I could hear voices and I heard Hervey say, “Let go your arm, leave it to me.” “I’m here,” I called. “Here—here—here—here I am. That other voice is an echo—here I am—right here—right here——” Pretty soon I could see him coming out of the mist. It seemed just as if it broke open to let him through. He was holding some one up and I could see a head sort of hanging back and looking up at the sky. “All right?” I asked. “Sure thing,” Hervey said. “Get hold of him, will you?” “At the stern,” I said. I was glad to show him I knew that much anyway, never to lift a person over the side of a small boat. It was some job getting the rescued fellow aboard, and then I saw it was our friend, the sharpy. His coat with the slanting pockets looked awful funny all wet and clinging to him. He was all right, that was one good thing, but his sharpy suit—_good night_! The worst that had happened to him was a good scare. “He was doing a new dance when I grabbed him,” Hervey said. The fellow just lay in the bottom of the boat breathing hard, but I could see he was all right. He reached up with his left hand and fixed his funny little necktie, and then I knew he was all right. I guess he would do that in his sleep. “He’s going to sit out the next dance,” Hervey said. “What happened?” I asked him. Then he told me just how it was. The fellow was dragging the lake with a seine. He had fastened one end of it on shore and was rowing with the other end. When Hervey lifted the seine and grabbed it the fellow happened to be standing in his boat and it pulled him over into the water. He grabbed the boat along the side and, of course, that swamped it. I’ll say one thing, if the old tin box is ever found that will be the way to find it—dragging with a seine. And that cake-eater would have stood a pretty good chance of finding it too if he had been free to work in the daytime. But he was trying to do it all alone in the night, that was the trouble. Anyway it gave him a good scare and took all the nerve out of him.