"Oh, Sabella!" he cried, "tell me who saved you?
Was it Mr.Brackett--my Uncle Billy, you know ?" "My Uncle Billy," she murmured faintly; then she again closed her eyes wearily, and seemed to sleep.
"It was he, then; it was he!" And Winn, breaking down, sobbed aloud.
"And all my fault that he came on this trip! My fault, my fault!" he repeated over and over again.
At length he became conscious of the selfishness of thus giving way to his feelings while Sabella was still in such urgent need of his aid.
"I must get her to the raft at once!" he exclaimed, starting up and looking about him.

But there was no raft, nor was there any steamboat.
There was nothing but the skiff with themselves in it, a small circle of brown water, and the fog.

He had no idea of direction, not even whether his skiff was heading up-stream or down, or drifting broadside to the current.

If the fog would only lift! It had been so kind to him, but now was so dreadful.
The boy took off his coat, folded it, and put it under Sabella's head.
Then he sat beside her and rubbed her cold hands.

He knew of nothing else that he could do for her, and so he waited--waited for the fog to lift or for help to come.
At length he began to hear sounds from every direction, the sound of whistles, bells, and hundreds of other noises.