Instead, though,
fighting his fears, he turned on his back for a moment with his round
face to the blue breeze-swept sky, and took long, grateful breaths of
the sun-sweet air. Above him a grey gull swept in a wide circle,
uttering harsh, discordant cries. Then, his panic gone, "Brownie" turned
over again and struggled on with renewed strength and courage. And
suddenly, the long swells were behind him and there, but a few yards
away, was Phil, Phil very white of face but as calm as ever.
He was swimming slowly on his side, one arm cleaving the water and the
other supporting the nearly inert body of Joe. "Here comes 'Brownie,'"
the rescuer heard him say cheerfully. "All right now, Joe. We'll get you
in in a jiffy! Roll over, 'Brownie,' and get your breath," he added.
"We're all right for a minute. That's the trick."
"I'm--a bit--tuckered," gasped "Brownie," as he lay and puffed with
outstretched arms.
"Don't blame you," said Phil. "How are you now, Joe?"
"Punk," muttered the other. "Don't you fellows bother too much. If
you'll just stay by for a minute or two--I'll be--um--all right, I
guess."
"No need to do that," replied Phil quietly. "'Brownie' and I will take
you between us. Put a hand on my shoulder.
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