Bathers were scattered thickly along the coast, but only a few had ventured far out beyond the life-lines, so Patsy naturally sought an explanation by gazing at those farthest out.

At first she was puzzled, for all the venturesome seemed to be swimming strongly and composedly; but presently a dark form showed on the crest of a wave--a struggling form that tossed up its arms despairingly and then disappeared.
She looked for Maud Stanton and saw her swimming straight out, but still a long way from the person in distress.

Then Patsy, always quick-witted in emergencies, made a dash for the shore where a small boat was drawn up on the beach.
"Come, Arthur, quick!" she cried to the young man, who was calmly wading near the beach, and he caught the note of terror in her voice and hastened to help push the little craft into the water.
"Jump in!" she panted, "and row as hard as you ever rowed in all your life." Young Weldon was prompt to obey.

He asked no useless questions but, realizing that someone was in danger, he pulled a strong, steady oar and let Patsy steer the boat.
The laughter and merry shouts of the bathers, who were all unaware that a tragedy was developing close at hand, rang in the girl's ears as she peered eagerly ahead for a sign to guide her.

Now she espied Maud Stanton, far out beyond the others, circling around and diving into this wave or that as it passed her.
"Whoever it was," she muttered, half aloud, "is surely done for by this time.