Curtis and Will elbowed their way down to the water 's edge . The relatives of the crew were all there in various stages of despair , but old Paul Stockton seemed like a man demented . He ran up and down the beach , crying and praying . His only son was on the Amy Reade , and he could do nothing to save him ! `` What are they doing ? '' asked Will of Martin Clark . `` Trying to get a line ashore by throwing out a small rope with a stick tied to it , '' answered Martin . `` It 's young Stockton that 's trying now . But it is n't any use . The cross-currents on that reef are too powerful . '' `` Why , Don will bring that line ashore ! '' exclaimed Curtis . `` Here , Don ! Don , I say ! '' The dog bounded back along the shore with a quick bark . Curtis grasped him by the collar and pointed to the stick which young Stockton had just hurled again into the water . Don , with another bark of comprehension , dashed into the sea . The onlookers , grasping the situation , gave a cheer and then relapsed into silence . Only the shriek of the gale and the crash of the waves could be heard as they watched the magnificent dog swimming out through the breakers , his big black head now rising on the crest of a wave and now disappearing in the hollow behind it . When Don finally reached the tossing stick , grasped it in his mouth and turned shoreward , another great shout went up from the beach .
A woman behind Curtis , whose husband was on the schooner , dropped on her knees XXXXX the pebbles , sobbing and thanking God .
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