"Let us go out and throw him a rope," cried Henry, and hurried forth, accompanied by James Morris and several others. Hiding behind some logs, they threw out the end of the rope and the drowning man clutched it. Just then another rifle rang out, and the bullet clipped a bit of log close to Henry's head.
"Keep down there, Henry!" warned James Morris.
It was hard work to bring in the Frenchman, for the fellow did not dare to climb upon the logs for fear of being shot at again. He was pulled into shallow water and then told to run for some brushwood. He started to do so, and then pitched headlong into the water, shot in the side.
"He'll drown, if he isn't dead!" cried Henry, and started to dash out. But James Morris was ahead of him, and in a trice had the wet and wounded man in his arms. Then the trader made a dash back into the fort, and the others who had gone out followed.
The Frenchman was seriously hurt and had to be carried to the hospital of the fort, where a surgeon worked over him for several hours.
"It's a sad complication," said the surgeon. "The wound is bad enough, and he was about half drowned in addition. But I think he will come around all right in the end." Yet in the morning the patient showed small signs of improvement, and by the next day fever had set in and he was out of his mind and began to rave.
"He may recover, but it will take time," said James Morris, after a visit to the bedside of the sick man. "He has had a narrow escape."
"Did you ever see the man before?" asked Henry.
"Never. By some papers he carries they have found out that his name is Benoit Vascal. He seems to be rich."
"Benoit Vascal," mused Henry. "I never heard that name before. I wonder what brought him here?"