While she lay limp and exhausted, the young lady with her mopped her head with a handkerchief and fanned her. The engineer of the motor boat had got near to Frank. He looked pale and distressed. He kept his eye fixed on the sinking motor boat for a time. “That’s the last of her,” he remarked, with a sigh. “Yes,” responded Frank, “we couldn’t do anything toward saving her.” “I should think not. I tell you, if you hadn’t known your business I don’t know what would have happened to us. Mrs. Carrington was entirely unmanageable, her companion can’t swim, and of course I wouldn’t leave them to perish.” “The stout lady is Mrs. Carrington, I suppose?” asked Frank. “That’s right.” “And Peter, I suppose, is the brave young man who jumped overboard with the float?” “He is her nephew, and a precious kind of a relative he is!” said the motor boat man, and his face expressed anger and disgust. “He would smoke those nasty cigarettes of his and throw the stubs where he liked. Honestly, I believe it was one of those that started the fire.” “He hasn’t shown himself to be very valiant or courageous,” commented Frank. There was a great crowd at the beach near the shore end of the pier where the launch landed. The skiff holding Randy, Pep and their dripping and shivering companion glided to the same spot as an officer saw that the launch was secured. He stared down in an undecided way at the helpless Mrs. Carrington. Peter, safe and sound now, leaped aboard the launch with the assurance of an admiral. “Hey, officer,” he hailed the man, “get a conveyance for the party as quick as you can.” “Suppose you do it yourself?” growled the motor boat man, looking as if he would like to give Peter a good thrashing. “Me? In this rig? Oh, dear, no!” retorted the shocked Peter. “I’ve got five suits of clothes home. Really, I ought to send for one. Don’t know what the people at Catalpa Terrace will say to see me coming home looking like a drowned rat, don’t you know,” and Peter grinned in a silly, self-important way. “He makes me sick!” blurted out the motor boat man. The young lady who was supporting Mrs. Carrington leaned toward Frank. Her face expressed the respect and admiration she felt for their rescuer. “We can never thank you enough for your prompt service,” she said, in a voice that trembled a trifle from excitement. “I am glad I was within call,” replied Frank, modestly. “Won’t you kindly give me your name?” inquired the young lady. “I am Miss Porter, and I am companion to Mrs. Carrington. I know her ways so well, that I am sure the first thing she will want to know when she becomes herself again is the name of her brave rescuer.” “My name is Frank Durham,” replied our hero. “My chums in the little boat are Randolph Powell and Pepperill Smith.” “So you live here at Seaside Park? Where can Mrs. Carrington send you word, for I am positive she will wish to see you?”