capped by his clothes and shoes, and the fact that the current was rather swift.
The young operator shook his head, to rid his eyes of the blinding water, and then reached out for the ring which Joe tossed to him. He caught, it in one hand, and then was quickly pulled toward the boat.
"All—all right—Joe—good—work!" Blake managed to gasp.
A moment later he was safe on deck, and Joe had to run back in a hurry to the steering wheel, for the Clytie was headed directly for the small boat. The men in it were crying out in alarm, and endeavoring to get out of the way. But the unguided motor craft seemed bent on running them down.
"All right! Don't worry!" shouted Joe, as he twirled over the steering wheel, and changed the course of the boat. "I guess we'd better go back and tie up," he added. "Did you get enough pictures, Blake?"
"Well, we'll call it a day's work," panted the young operator, as he managed to get a full breath after his sudden bath. "I was almost finished when that bump came and knocked me overboard. What was it?"
"A big log. I didn't see it in time."
"Neither did I, or I'd have taken a brace,"
