“Yes.”
“Well, I will keep close, so that I can give you some help, if you need it. Don’t drown yourself trying to save him.”
“We must save him, Hodge,” said Frank, as he swam toward the distant beach, supporting Welch. “It would not do for us to let him drown after——”
“After he tried to shoot us!” grated Bart. “Oh, that is like you, Merriwell! You are ready to risk your own life for an enemy who has done you any kind of injury! I’m not built that way! My enemies can look out for themselves!”
Frank said nothing, for he was thoroughly occupied in the task of reaching the shore, and he could make but slow progress, burdened as he was.
Hodge paddled along, watching Frank anxiously.
“Let me hold the fellow’s head above the surface a few moments, while you rest, Frank,” he urged.
“No,” said Merry. “Can’t take chances of his overturning you. I’m all right. Keep on.”
The man with the boat was now so close to the shore that he could touch bottom. He stood up and waded out, pushing the boat along and dragging it up on the beach.
Having done this, the fellow turned and looked at the approaching lads. He seemed undecided for a moment, but suddenly wheeled about and plunged into the swampy woods, vanishing from view.