Markel stumbled along the bank with the rope, and when he reached the group of boys they moved back to give him space. He coiled the rope loosely in one hand, then whirled the free end of it about his head and flung it out into the stream.
But the rope fell short. Joe made a frantic grab for it, but Markel had misjudged the distance.
"Here—let me try it," demanded the oldest of the three men, pushing Markel impatiently to one side. He seized the loose end of the rope, drew the remainder of it from the rushing water, then cast it out to Joe.
The rope whirled through the air, missed Joe's outstretched fingers by inches, then splashed into the water.
Again the old man drew the rope back, again he swung it about his head and again it arched out above the river.
This time it fell against Joe's shoulders. The youth, still clinging to the unconscious form on the rock, hastily grabbed at it, seized it, and began hastily tying it about his shoulders, underneath his arms.
He was handicapped by the fact that he had but one arm free, but at last he had the rope securely knotted.
The old man was greatly excited. He had noticed that the boy had not moved and that Joe had to cling to him to keep him from being swept off the rock.
"Lester!" he shouted. "Lester! Are you all right?"
"He hit his head on a rock and it knocked him out," explained Jerry. "I don't think he's badly hurt."