What they saw was a canoe, containing a solitary figure, crossing the river. As they watched they saw the frail craft upset, and, a moment later the man who was in it was struggling in the water.
“Go to his rescue! Never mind me!” cried Jerry. “I can wait. Save the man!”
At a nod from the professor Ned speeded up the engine and steered the boat toward where the man had disappeared beneath the surface of the river. In a few seconds the Dartaway was at the place.
“Can you see him?” asked Bob.
“Yes, he’s right here!” exclaimed Ned, reversing the screw and bringing the motor craft to a stop. “Pass me the boat hook, Bob. He seems to be held down by a tangle of grass or weeds!”
Bob passed the hook forward. Ned lowered it into the water and caught the blunt point in the clothing of the submerged man. With Bob’s aid he drew him to the surface.
As the man’s head came out of the water he shook it to relieve himself of the water. Then, taking a long breath, which showed that he had held it while deprived of air, he uttered a grunt and proceeded to climb into the Dartaway.
“He’s a negro!” exclaimed Bob in a whisper.
“Me no black man!” exclaimed the rescued one, shaking himself like a dog and thereby splashing water over all in the boat. “Me Indian. My name Ottiby. Me chief! Ugh!”
“An Indian,” murmured Ned.