Sandy by this time had stripped off his clothes and
had dashed into the water. A long plank from some
lumber schooner was drifting up the beach in the
gentle swell of the tide. Sandy ran abreast of it
for a time, sprang into the surf, threw himself upon
it flat like a frog, and then began paddling shoreward.
The other two now rushed into the water, grasping
the near end of the derelict, the whole party pushing
and paddling until it was hauled clean of the brine
and landed high on the sand.
A triumphant yell here came from the water's
edge, and the balance of the gang--there were seven
in all--rushed to the help of the dauntless three.
Archie heaped a pile of pebbles within reach of
his hand and waited the attack. What the savages
were going to do with the plank neither he nor Tod
could divine. The derelict was now dragged over the
sand to the hulk, Tod and Archie pelting its rescuers
with stones and shells as they came within short
range.
"Up with her, fellers!" shouted Sandy, who, since
Scootsy's unmanly tears, had risen to first place.
"Run it under the bowsprit--up with her--there
she goes! Altogether!"
Archie took his stand, his long sapling in his hand,
and waited.
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