Harriet shook her and pounded her on the back, all the time
managing to float on the surface of the water, evidencing that
Harriet was something of a swimmer. Yet she was becoming weary and the
sense of feeling was leaving her limbs. She realized that it was the
chill of the Atlantic and that unless she succeeded in restoring her
circulation she would soon be helpless. Just now, however, all her
efforts were devoted to the task of arousing Grace. The little girl
began to whimper and to struggle anew.
"I am amazed at you, Tommy," gasped Harriet. "You, a swimmer, to
swallow part of the ocean!"
"I didn't. The ocean thwallowed me--e."
"You must work. Swim, Tommy!"
"I--I can't. I'm tho tired." Grace made languid efforts to prove that
she was weary. There could be no doubt of it. She did not have the
endurance possessed by her companion, and even Harriet's strength was
leaving her, because of that terrible numbness in her lower limbs, a
numbness that was creeping upward little by little.
"I will help you. But you must do something for yourself. Turn over on
your stomach. There. You need not try to fight it, just make swimming
motions, slowly. Not so fast. Now you have the pace."
"I can't keep it. My limbth will not work.
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