"H-e-l-p! H-e-l-p!" called Phil, in what he thought was a loud tone.
There were no indications that his cry had been heard by those on board the steamboat. He tried it again, but with no better success than before.
"I have simply got to keep on yelling my lungs out until I attract their attention. I am afraid I shall never reach shore unless I am picked up. I might be able to keep afloat until daylight, but I doubt it. I shall get so chilled, before then, that I shall have to give up. I've got some fight left in me yet, just the same."
"A-h-o-y, boat! Help!"
On came the steamer, steadily.
Suddenly Phil discovered something else. She had changed her course. The boat seemed to be drawing away from him! His heart sank, but almost at once, the boat turned again, following the tortuous channel of the stream.
She now was sweeping almost directly down upon him. He heard some call on the upper deck.
"They are going to run me down!" he gasped.
Phil threw all his strength into an effort to swim out of the path of the swiftly moving boat, but he feared he would not be able to clear her.
The lad uttered a loud shout, then dived deep, coming up at once only to find himself almost against the side of the moving craft.