billow that almost rose over him. 

 With a skilful turn of the paddle 

 he poked the nose of the little canoe 

 up through it. 



"Can you swim?" I asked of the 

 stern paddler. Another shake of the 

 head. Incredible! these men living 

 thus precariously on the water, and 

 not able to swim! I blush to confess 

 that I was very inexpert. Only 

 Nimrod to save us all. The canoe 

 was rapidly filling. It must be baled 

 out soon or we should sink. 

 Nimrod and I cast about with our 

 eyes for something, anything with 

 which to bale. No other part but 

 our eyes moved, for we all were 

 balancing ourselves to a hair in that 

 cockleshell. 



Nimrod spied a tomato tin, 

 brought to boil water for tea, and 

 I bethought me of the rubber drink- 

 ing cups in my pocket. Rapidly 

 with as little motion as possible we 

 baled and baled with our foolish 

 utensils. It was a fight of endurance. 

 The waves were gradually drifting 

 as to shore, if we could but keep the 

 frail craft from capsizing or sinking 

 for a little longer. The wind was 



