"I have sworn that one of us shall never leave this swamp alive."
"Go ahead, Gage," came coolly from the lips of the captive. "Luck seems to have turned your way. Make the most of it while you have an opportunity."
"We can't spend time in gabbing here," came nervously from Bowsprit. "Let's get away immediately."
"Yes," put in Black Tom; "fo' de Lawd's sake, le's get away before dat light shine some mo'!"
"That's right," said the old tar. "Some things happen in this swamp that no human being can account for."
Gage was ready enough to get away, and they were soon pulling onward again, with Frank Merriwell, bound and helpless, in the bottom of the smaller boat.
For nearly an hour they rowed, and then they succeeded in finding some dry, solid land where they could camp beneath the tall, black trees.
They were so overcome with alarm that they did not venture to build a fire, for all that Gage was shivering in his wet clothes.
Leslie was still puzzling over Frank Merriwell's astonishing appearance, and he tried to question Frank concerning it, but he could obtain but little satisfaction from the boy he hated.
The night passed, and morning came.