thinking that Tom was before him, and then went with a splash into the lake.
Almost unconscious of what he was doing, he caught the log again. But he was now too weak to pull himself up. "It's the end," he thought bitterly. Then a cry came to him, a cry that seemed half real, half imaginary.
"Hullo, Rover! Is that you?"
It was Peterson who was calling. The lumberman had drifted up on another log, and as the two sticks bumped together he caught hold of the youth and assisted him to his former resting place.
"I—I can't hold on any—any longer!" gasped Dick.
"Try, lad, try! Some kind of a boat is bound to appear, sooner or later."
"I—I am nu—numb all over."
"I suppose that's true—I'm numb myself. But don't ye give up."
Encouraged somewhat by Peterson's words Dick continued to hold on, and a few minutes later the lumberman gave a cheering cry:
"A steamer! Saved at last!"
The lumberman was right; the freighter Tom and Sam had hailed was approaching, the castaways having been discovered by the aid of a marine glass.
