I guess most everybody at the camp was up on the porch by now, and there were a lot crowding on the spring-board.

"Pull hard," Doc said; "the next cry will be the last one; I know the sound."

Just then we heard a long cry, but it didn't say any word, just h--e-- e--

And then it stopped.

Doc said, "Pull hard anyway; you steer her, Roy. Right over there--a little to the left--you can see the canoe."

I looked over there and saw it upset and no one was near it.

I can't tell you all about what happened. I tried and tore up three pages. Because it makes me all excited myself, as you might say. I can hear that crowd on the porch shouting just as plain as on that very day it happened. And every time it rains and it's dark and windy, it reminds me of it too. The next thing I knew we were right close beside two fellows and Westy was holding them and shouting, "_Let go, I've got him!_"

The fellow who wouldn't let go was Skinny.

I can't tell you about how he looked--honest, I just can't tell you.

But there was blood on his face just the same as I saw in the dream--as sure as I'm sitting here, there was. He had hold of the camping fellow's mackinaw jacket with his teeth and the fellow's mouth was stretched wide open and Skinny's hand was clutching his teeth and chin and holding his head above water that way. It wasn't like any rule for holding a drowning fellow, anyway, no rule _I_ ever heard of. Even now I can see that skinny little white hand straining to hold that mouth and chin, and afterward I saw how there was a cut across Skinny's fingers where the fellow's teeth had pressed. Skinny's arm was shaking just like a rope shakes when it's pulled too tight and his eyes were staring crazy.

While I kept the boat steady, Doc leaned out and pressed Skinny's jaws so as to make his teeth let go. And even then when we dragged him in over the stern, he had a piece of mackinaw jacket in his mouth.

I said, "Skinny, don't act crazy, he's saved," but he only sat on the back seat trembling all over as if he had a fit. It wasn't because he was cold, it was just because he was excited and crazy like.

I didn't notice the camping fellow much after I saw that he was alive and that Doc had him breathing all right. Westy took the oars but I couldn't help him on account of Skinny. And I couldn't do much for Skinny either. He was gone clean out of his head and started screaming, "_I did it; I did it!_"

I said, "Yes, you did it; try to be quiet and get rested now. Can't you see he's all right?"

"I held him up till you came," he panted; "I'm a hero. I want to go and be all by myself, I do."

I said, "Hsh, Skinny, listen--"

"He called me!" Skinny shouted; "_he called me_ out loud!"

"I know," I said, "and you went. Sure, you're a hero." But of course, I knew the fellow never called him at all. Anyway, maybe the wind made it sound that way to him. He just sat there shaking all over and staring wild, "Three times," he panted out, "and that's the last--I--I got my hand in his mouth before--before--he said it--I did. That's the way murderers do--it is. I did it. Even I know how to strangle--I do. I'm a hero!"

I said, "Listen here, Alf, you're a wonder--"

"I--I--I--could _kill_ you if I wanted to!" he screamed; "I can do anything--I can sneak--stalk--I can take things out of your pocket--I can choke people--I--"

That's just the way he went on and I saw he had gone all to pieces, maybe from the strain, and didn't know what he was saying. I just put my arm around him and I could feel that he was shaking all over, but it wasn't anything like a chill.

He kept saying, "I want to be alone by myself now."

I said, "Alf, listen a minute--_please_. You can go and be alone by yourself. You can go in our patrol cabin and I'll chase all the fellows out. I know how you feel. It was wonderful, Alf. Try to get quieted down now. You saved him."

"I--I can _bite_," he said.

I said, "Yes, I know; but try to take it easy now, because we're coming to sh.o.r.e. You have to act like a real hero."

But as soon as we came into shallow water he jumped out of the boat and scooted around the edge of the pavilion, like a wild animal. In a couple of seconds everybody in camp was around the boat, waiting to hear what the camp doctor said. As soon as I knew that the fellow was going to be all right, I went away to find Skinny. No one else seemed to miss him.

Pretty soon I heard a voice calling, "What's your hurry, Blakeley?" and I turned around and saw Bert Winton hurrying to catch up to me.

"I'm going to look for that kid," I said.

For about half a minute we walked along together, and then he said kind of quiet, sort of, "Do you think he's crazy?"

"I don't think he's exactly crazy," I said; "but he's all gone to pieces."

"He sounded crazy from the sh.o.r.e," he said.

"He didn't know what he was saying, anybody could tell that," I answered him.

"What did he do?" Winton asked me.

"Oh, he just nearly killed him trying to save him," I said.

"Hmph," Winton said.

"He'll be all right," I told him.

"Most of the fellows here think he's crazy," he said. "Last night they could hear him way out on the lake, boasting about his father stealing silver. 'Better keep your watch under your pillow and let Uncle Jeb take care of your coin,' that's what all the fellows are saying."

"Is that what _you're_ saying?" I said.

"I'm not saying anything," he shot back.

"You saw what he just did," I told him.

"I saw what he just did," he said.

"You don't seem to be very excited about it," I shot back at him again.

"What's the good of getting excited?" he said.

"Do _you_ think he's crazy and a thief?" I asked him.

"I think he may be a little crazy--at times," he said. "As to being a thief--" And then he screwed his mouth up, but didn't say anything more.

"A hero-thief," I said, kind of sarcastic, for the way he talked made me mad.

"He's sure a hero," he said.

"I'm glad you think so," I told him. "Heroes aren't usually thieves, are they?"

"Not as a rule," he said, kind of quiet and all the while kicking a stone.

"Well then," I said.