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It was way over his head. Down, down, he sank. He was terribly frightened, with water all around him and in his eyes and his nose and mouth. He was choking, but all he thought of, even then, was his little sister, the poor slave.

The first thing he knew, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder and heard the Toyman’s voice saying,–

“Hold on, Sonny, you’re all right–just grab on to me.”

He had always liked to be held close in the Toyman’s arms, especially at night before the fire when he told them stories, but never had those arms felt as safe as now.

Then, all-of-a-sudden he thought–!

“Stop!” he tried to shout, but his mouth was almost too full of water to say anything, “get–blllllloooo–Hep-ze-bbbllllooo”–and then he had to stop.

But the Toyman laughed as he pulled him safe on the shore.

“Look there,” he said.

And Marmaduke did look, and there was Rover dragging his little sister out of the sea by the back of her dress.

The Toyman patted the brave dog on the head.

“He’s the hero,” he said, “good old Rover!”

Then something fine happened. At least Marmaduke and Jehosophat thought so. And we’ll leave it to you to decide whether it was fine or not.

Now the pirates had started to run, but their chief, the big fat one, just before he reached the road, slipped in the mud. And down over the banks into the sea he fell, and the Toyman didn’t trouble to fish him out, either. Of course, it wasn’t very deep, but Fatty tumbled flat on his back, and the water covered him–all but his stomach, which stuck out above the water like the fat rump of a whale. He got up at last. And a pretty sight he was, not like a bold pirate, but a great big “booby,” Mother said, with the mud all over his clothes, and the water going slippity slop in his shoes, and he shouting, “Bbbbbbllllllllloooooooooo–splutter–gerchoo!” worse even than Marmaduke.

Quick as a wink the Toyman lifted Marmaduke on one shoulder, the little girl on the other, as he always carried them, and took them into the house.

And soon their clothes were off, and dry ones on, and–best of all–some nice warm lemonade was trickling down just where the muddy water had been–down the Red Lane.

He felt greatly contented, did Marmaduke, for hadn’t they beaten the “ol’ pirates,” and driven them away? And after that they had heaped coals of fire on their heads, as the minister used to say. Yes sir, they invited the big, fat chief of the pirates into their kitchen, though he didn’t deserve it, and gave him some dry clothes, too, though he didn’t deserve that, either, and some lemonade into the bargain.

Altogether, it was a very successful day.