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are nowadays, was delayed all the morning waiting for a breeze that did not come. There was the usual noontime crowd of bathers on the beach, and among them Marjorie, her brother Carl, and two of the other boys of the volunteer life-saving crew. Naturally enough, Marjorie's thoughts were with Angèle, off there on the Cécile, and naturally, too, Marjorie's gaze was fixed frequently in that direction. There was not a sign of life aboard the yacht for some time, and then, finally, she saw Angèle come out on deck in her red bathing-suit and cap. Evidently she intended to have one last dip before sailing, Marjorie thought. An unaccountable feeling of uneasiness came over her that she could not shake off. In her anxiety for Angèle, she ran to the pavilion and borrowed the keeper's binoculars. She could watch her plainly with the aid of the glasses. Instead of diving overboard, as Marjorie had expected her to do, Angèle went over the side and down the ladder, letting herself slowly into the water. Without looking back at the yacht, Angèle started out at once for the beach. It was over a half-mile swim straightaway, but, with the tide that was setting past, one would be obliged to swim nearly twice the distance, and would be carried considerably beyond the raft and toward the rocks at the point. Marjorie's foreboding was followed by a feeling of genuine alarm, as she noticed how the tide was steadily bearing the swimmer down toward the point. Shaking off the state of inaction, which dread and fright at Angèle's predicament had produced, Marjorie called out to Carl and the other two boys, explaining what she had seen. “You don't suppose she 's going to try to swim all the way inshore, do you?” Carl asked. “What else is there for her to do?” asked Marjorie. “She could n't swim back to the yacht against the current, I'm sure.” “Well, come on, boys'" said Carl, without stopping to ask further questions. Marjorie jumped into the life-boat and took her place in the stern, and the boys ran it down the smooth planks and into the surf with a rush that attracted the attention of the bathers and the other people on the beach. A little red spot, which showed up occasionally on the swells, in the line of direction taken by the life-boat, told them the object of the expedition, and every one was soon eagerly watching its progress. Meanwhile, six strong, young arms were forcing the little life-boat through the water as fast as they could make it go. Straight on its course Marjorie guided the craft. Tears blurred the sight of that little red cap ahead of her, but the
distance between boat and swimmer was perceptibly lessening. “That 's it ! keep it up, boys! We 'll soon—” Carl was interrupted by Marjorie's anxious tone and entreaty: “Oh, faster, Carl Faster, boys! She 's—she 's gone—down " A little brown arm had stuck up out of the water for a second, as though waving a greeting, and then, just as Marjorie was about to wave in reply, arm, cap, and all disappeared ' Carl, who was rowing stroke, responded with renewed energy to Marjorie's appeal for haste, and with so hard a pull at the oars that—crack' his right oar was snapped off just above the blade, with a suddenness that nearly unseated him. “Here, quick 1" said Marjorie, and in a second she had replaced the useless shaft by her own steering oar. A few seconds later, Angèle came to the surface, struggling bravely. “A little stronger on your left—there, two more strokes, then stop !” said Marjorie, coolly. What then happened took place so quickly that the boys, looking on as they gripped their oars, could hardly believe their eyes. Quickly as her keen wits prompted the impulse, Marjorie, tying a slip-knot in the end of the coil of rope in the stern, slipped it over her shoulders, drawing it snugly under her arms, and, as the boat reached the spot where Angèle gradually, though fighting desperately, had disappeared, Marjorie plunged headlong ! The rope unwound in quick, even spirals from the flat, mat-like coil in the stern. Carl held his breath, as did the others, in fear and wonder. Beneath, and considerably ahead of her, Marjorie could dimly make out Angèle's struggling figure, carried down and on by the tide. Straining every nerve and muscle, Marjorie swam desperately, with all her strength. It seemed impossible to force herself farther down, but she could not, she would not, give up, with her Angèle almost within arm's-reach. The time had come to use the last resort. Expelling the full breath that she had naturally taken in before diving, she became less buoyant, and her progress downward was thus made easier. If only she could hold out a little longer! The firm, strong beating of her heart exaggerated the passing of the time since her plunge, which could still be measured in seconds under a minute, although to her it was almost unendurably long and painful. She wanted air. It seemed as though her arms could not make another stroke. “I must not—I must not give up now !” she told herself, and then—her strong, slender fingers clutched Angèle's shoulder. Her arms were about Angèle's waist in the next instant, and with her remaining strength she drew her close. Then came a tug of the rope about her chest ! “There, I dare not wait longer" Carl was saying. “Row ahead a stroke, while I pull in on the line !” he faltered. A few seconds later, the two girls were being drawn into the boat. “Row with all your might for the yacht ! Faster–faster " Carl urged. On the deck of the Cécile, Angèle was soon revived. With a pitiful little sigh she opened her eyes. Marjorie, tearful now, and the yacht's captain, were bending over her. “Ah, at last ! Our little Angèle has come back to us!” said the captain, and he murmured a reverent “Thank God.” Half an hour later, Carl was telling the story
to Angèle's father, who had just been rowed out from shore, and Angèle was explaining how she had intended to swim ashore to say good-by again to Marjorie, when a cramp had seized her, and had made her powerless to swim. Her father could not say enough in praise of the boys, and in gratitude to the volunteer life-saving crew. And as for Marjorie, it made them all happy again to see the way he hugged and patted her, in his enthusiastic manner, and called her, “Mon leetle Surfman Numbaire Seven ''' Nor was this quite all. The following summer, before the season had fairly opened, a stanch little life-boat of the best design, selfrighting, self-bailing, non-sinkable, and non-capsizable, arrived from a grateful father for the Volunteer Life-Saving Station at Brenton Beach.
Now, Benjamin Bobster stood alone
By the side of a gorgeous sign Which plainly read: “Right Here is Shown - The Littlest Pumplekin Ever Grown”; -- And Benjie claimed, in a truculent tone, “That prize is certainly mine!”
When the judges came to the Pumplekin Class,
They examined his claim with care; * They all looked hard with a powerful glass \- To see wherein this might surpass \ All other Pumplekins; but, alas!