"Don't you believe it," answered Fred, instantly. "He's swallowed a whole lot of water, and is pretty far gone; but let's get him ashore, and revive him!"
Others had by now come up, and between the lot poor Colon was hurried to the bank, up which he was carried.
"Lay him here, face down, so I can straddle him with my knees!" Fred called out. "Now, some of you begin, and work his arms back and forth regularly, while I press down on his lungs so as to induce artificial breathing. That's the only way to get things started, you see. A little harder, Brad, please. And don't the rest of you look so scared. He's going to come out of this. He wasn't under the water any time at all, but just gave way because of the cramp and the scare."
So Fred talked as he worked, and all the while he was building up the hopes of the fellows, who looked peaked and white, under the belief that they had seen the last of their chum, the good-natured Colon.
And Fred was right.
In a very short time one of the boys who were working Colon's arms like the piston rods of a locomotive cried out:
"He moved a little then, fellows!"
"And listen to that, would you?" exclaimed another delighted chum, as Colon plainly sighed.
In five minutes Colon recovered enough to be helped back to camp, where he was rubbed down until his skin fairly glowed, and then hustled between a pair of blankets, to rest, while the others dressed, and got breakfast ready.
Colon had learned his lesson. He would never again persist in remaining in ice-cold water when he was shivering, and his lips turning blue. Nature has a way of sending up a warning sign, that every intelligent fellow ought to heed.