"Nothing is certain but the unforeseen," he sighed; but he remembered his part, and the sigh became a snore, which he carefully repeated at intervals, for Lawford's benefit.
He little thought how soon his words would be fulfilled. The steamer was some way ahead, and Whero was making towards it steadily. The barge behind them was lessening in the distance, when the Maori boy fixed his fingers like a vice in the strap of Lawford's swag, and upset his canoe.
Whero knew that Edwin could swim well, and that Lawford was unused to the water. Whero had detected that by the awkward way in which he stepped into the canoe.
The two struggled in the water for the possession of the swag. At last the man relinquished his hold, and Whero swam to shore triumphantly, leaving him to drown.
"He shall not drown!" cried Edwin, hastening towards him with vigorous strokes; but before he could reach the spot, Lawford had sunk. Edwin swam round and round, watching for him to rise.
It was a moment of anguish so intense he thought life, reason, all within him, would give way before the dreadful question, "What have I been? An accomplice in this man's death—all unknowing, it is true; but that cannot save him. Oh! it does matter," he groaned, "what kind of fellows a boy is forced to take for his chums."
The drowning man rose to the surface. Edwin grasped him by the coat. For a little while they floated with the current, until Lawford's weight began to drag Edwin down.
"Better die with him than live to know I have killed him," thought Edwin. One hurried upward glance into the azure sky brought back the remembrance of One who is ever present, ever near, and strong to save us to the uttermost. This upheld him. A tree came floating by; he caught at its branches. Lawford had just sense enough to follow his example and cling for dear life to the spreading arms.
A bargee, unloading his freight of coal upon the bank, perceived their danger, and swam out with a rope. He threw it to Lawford, but he missed it. A second was flung from the barge, and the noose at the end of it caught among the branches flapping up and down in the water. Men's lives were at stake, but as the value of the drift-wood would well repay its capture, they hauled it in with the bold young swimmer clinging to its boughs; for the first of the watermen who came to their help had seized Lawford, who relinquished his hold on the tree to snatch at the rope he brought him.
The two men swam to the barge. Edwin was drawn in to shore. He scrambled up the bank and looked around him for Lawford.