"Too late!" muttered Dick gloomily. "Listen! There’s Jim calling for help. Shout back. Now again, and all together." The sweat poured down their faces, their muscles ached terribly, their throats were dry and parched, but they pulled on without a second’s pause. Again the cry for help rang out, this time much nearer, and soon they discerned a dark object in the water. "Keep her steady!" roared Spencer. "Grab the other fellow, Dick!" And he himself caught Jim, and pulled him up so that he partly rested on the gunwale. The whole manoeuvre was full of danger, but they were taking risks that night. By degrees, Spencer, who was fortunately strong as a horse, managed to pull Jim into the boat, and then helped to drag in Braithwaite, who displayed no sign of life. "Let’s put our coats over them, and that dry sail in the corner," said Dick. "Now, a pull for the shore. Keep her head straight, Tommy!" News of the desperate situation of the boys had spread rapidly. Numbers of people had assembled on the shore, and cheer after cheer greeted the plucky rescuers as they beached and made fast the boat. Two or three doctors were among the spectators. Some thoughtful soul had hastily made and sent down a can of hot coffee, while a man from the York Hotel arrived soon afterwards with warm blankets. "Are they alive?" was the question on the lips of every one, as the doctors ran down to the boat, and a few policemen kept the crowd back. Dick had already unfastened his friend’s braces, and taken off his shirt, in order to expose his chest fully, while Spencer and Tom Moon were doing the same for Braithwaite. "That’s right, my boy," said one of the doctors to Dick. "Now, help me to turn him face downwards. Place one of his arms under the forehead, so, and hold it there while I wipe his mouth." Dick was half wild with grief; but he did as he was told, though feeling sure in his mind that Jim was dead. Assisted by another man, the doctor presently turned the body gently on one side, and then back again sharply, Dick supporting the head meanwhile. This movement was repeated many times, and at last the doctor exclaimed with a look of satisfaction, "We’ve got him; he’s beginning to breathe. Slip the trousers off and cover him with a blanket. Now rub his limbs upward, under the blanket. You’ve saved him, my boy!" "Is he alive, sir?" asked Dick, hardly able to believe the truth. "Alive? Yes; he’ll be as right as ninepence in a few hours." As soon as Jim began to breathe he was carried to a hotel close by, where the landlady busied herself to procure hot flannels and hot water-bottles. Then she brought a bottle of old wine, and gave Jim some in a teaspoon, under the doctor’s orders. "Now," said that gentleman, "there’s nothing but a few hours’ sleep required. Let this youngster stay in the room. I’m going to see how the other poor boy’s getting on."