GABRIEL'S LITTLE DRAMA 99 



that was happening behind me. As the boat 

 came after me I noticed there was but a slight 

 ripple of white water about the prow. Plainly 

 it was not making great speed. 



" Pull away, my boys. We ketch dat feller," 

 sang out Gabriel. 



Wilson at the midship oar " caught a crab " 

 and tumbled over backwards, his feet kicking in 

 the air. Wilson was a good oarsman. He was 

 my friend. A hundred yards more and Walker 

 at the tub oar did the same. He also was my 

 friend. 



The boys were doing their best to help me — 

 to give me a chance. I knew it. Gabriel knew 

 it, too. The crafty old negro recognized the 

 crisis. I could not hear what he said or see all 

 that he did, but the boys told me about it after- 

 wards. It must have been a pretty bit of acting. 



Suddenly Gabriel half rose from his seat and 

 peered anxiously ahead. 



"My God!" he cried, "dat poor feller, he 

 drown. Pull, my boys. Oh, good God ! " 



The sailors at the sweeps had their backs to 

 me. It was a good long swim and the water 



