The boys on the shore came down to the water's edge and watched Nat Poole with interest. He was floundering around in water up to his waist. Sometimes he would come up on a rock, and then slip and pitch headlong. But he kept on, until he was but a few yards away.
"Hi, Nat! what's the matter?" called out Phil. "Did you fall overboard?"
"Hel—help me!" chattered the unfortunate one, and now the others realized that he was suffering greatly from the cold. "Don—don't let m—me—g-g-g—go down!"
"We'll help you!" answered Phil, promptly, and ran out on some dry rocks to a point close to poor Nat. "Come, give me your hand and I'll pull you up."
"So will I," added Ben, who had come behind the shipowner's son.
The suffering youth was only too glad to have somebody come to his aid, and he put up both hands, and those on the rocks hauled him up and then aided him to get to a safe spot on shore. He was shivering from head to feet, and his teeth chattered so that he could hardly speak.
"I wa—want t-t-to get where it is wa-wa-warm!" chattered Nat. "That wa—water is li—like i-i-i-ice!"
"Take off your wet coat," said Phil, kindly.
