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Page 8
"What is it?" called the reporter, hastening to the side of the old
man.
"Looks like a life-raft from the steamer!" exclaimed Bailey. "She
must have broken up. Maybe there's some one on this. Give me a hand.
We'll try to haul it ashore when the next high wave sends it up on
the beach."
Larry strained his eyes for a sight of the object. He could just
discern something white, rising and falling on the tumultuous
billows.
"Come on!" cried Bailey, rushing down into the first line of surf,
as a big roller lifted the object and flung it onward. "Grab it and
pull!"
Larry sprang down the sand. He waded out into the water, surprised
to find how strong it was even in the shallow place. He made a grab
for the dim white object. His hands grasped a rope. At the same time
the fisherman got hold of another rope.
"Pull!" cried Bailey, and Larry bent his back in an effort to snatch
the raft from the grip of the sea.
At first the waves shoved the raft toward them, then, as the waters
receded, the current sucked it out again. But the fisherman was
strong and Larry was no weakling. They hauled until they had the
raft out of reach of the rollers. Then, while there came a wilder
burst of the storm, and a dash of spray from the waves, Bailey
leaned over the raft.
"There's a man lashed to it!" the fisherman cried. "We must get him
to my shack and try to save him! Hurry now!"
CHAPTER III
THE MAN AT THE HUT
With a few quick strokes of his knife Bailey severed the ropes that
bound the unconscious man to the raft. Then, taking him by the
shoulders, and directing Larry to grasp the stranger's legs, they
started for the hut.
"Queer there weren't more to come ashore on that raft," the
fisherman remarked as they trudged over the sand. "It would hold a
dozen with safety. Maybe they were all swept off but this one. Poor
souls! there'll be many a one in Davy Jones's locker to-night I'm
afraid."
"Is he--is he dead?" asked Larry, hesitatingly, for he had never
handled a lifeless person before.
"I'm afraid so, but you never can tell. I've seen 'em stay under
water a good while and brought back to life. You'd best help me
carry him in, and then run for some of the life guards. I'll be
working over him, and maybe I can bring him around."
Through the storm the two staggered with their burden. They reached
the hut, and the man was tenderly placed on the floor near the fire.
"You hurry down the coast, and if you can see any of the guards
tell 'em to come here," Bailey said to Larry. "They can't do
anything for the wreck to-night."
Larry glanced at the man he had helped save from the sea. The
stranger was of large size, and seemed well-dressed, though his
clothes were anything but presentable now. His face was partly
concealed by the collar of his coat, which was turned up, and Larry
noted that the man had a heavy beard and moustache.
These details he took in quickly while he was buttoning his oilskin
jacket tighter around his neck for another dash into the storm.
Then, as he opened the door of the hut to go in search of a
coast-guard, Bailey began to strip the wet garments from the
unconscious man.
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