“Hold on! Whereabouts are you?”
“Down in this here cruel water.” The words ended in a shuddering cough.
“Right—hold on for a moment!” Taffy’s ankle pained him, but the wrench was not serious. The cliff shelved easily. He slid down, clutching at the tamarisk boughs which whipped his face. “Where are you? I can’t see.”
“Here!” The voice was not a dozen yards away.
“Swimming?”
“No—I’ve got a water-breaker—can’t hold on much longer.”
“I believe you can touch bottom there.”
“Hey? I can’t hear.”
“Try to touch bottom. It’s firm sand hereabouts.”
“So I can.” The splashing and coughing came nearer, came close. Taffy stretched out a hand. A hand, icy-cold, fumbled and gripped it in the darkness.