“Hold! Hold! I’ll pull you out!”
But for the hard labor of the past few weeks Adrian’s muscles could not have stood the strain. Yet they did, and as he drew the nearly senseless Pierre upon the rock beside himself his soul went up in such glad thanksgiving as he had never known, or might know again. A life saved. That was worth all things.
For an hour they lay there, resting, recovering; then Pierre, himself, stood up to see what chance there was for a fuller deliverance. He was a very sober and altered Pierre, and his drenched clothing added to the forlornness of his appearance.
“Nothing left but—us. Came nigh bein’ only you. Say, Adrian, I shan’t forget it.”
“How are we going to get ashore?”
“’Tisn’t much harder’n Margot’s stepping-stones. Done them times enough.”
Again Adrian was grateful for his forest experience, but he asked with some anxiety:
“Suppose you are strong enough to do it?”
“Isn’t any supposin’ about it. Got to. Might as well died in the pool as starve on this rock.”