When my head came up I found myself at Alano’s side. I saw he had a slight cut on the forehead and was completely dazed. I caught him by the arm until he opened his eyes and instinctively struck out.
“We’re lost, Mark!” he spluttered.
“Not yet,” I returned. “Strike out for the shore.”
With all the strength at our command we struck out. To make any headway against that boiling current was well-nigh impossible, and on and on we went, until I was almost exhausted. Alano was about to sink when he gave a cry.
“The bottom!” he announced, and I put down both feet, to find the stream less than three feet deep. With our feet down, we were now able to turn shoreward; and five minutes later Jorge had us both by the hands and was helping us out.
“Well, we wanted a bath and we got it,” were Alano’s first words. “Have you had enough, Mark?”
“More than sufficient,” I replied, with a shudder. “Ugh, but that is a treacherous stream, and no mistake!”
“You lucky boys,” said Jorge. “Horse get in and roll over, he lose his life.”
We stopped long enough to wring out our clothing and put on our boots, and then followed our guide again. Half an hour later we reached a sheltered spot and here took dinner. By the time the repast was ended our light summer suits were almost dried. Luckily, through it all each of us had retained his hat.