Paul had duties in camp just then. He expected to take a dip himself a little later on.
Hardly had ten minutes passed before he heard a loud series of shouts.
"Hold hard, Tom! Make a chain there, you fellows, and get him before he lets go! Hurry up, can't you?"
It was Jack Stormways shouting these words. Paul knew instantly that some one must have been caught by the current, and was in danger of being dragged along down the stream to where it dashed wildly against the rocks.
The young patrol leader lost not an instant. Snatching up a rope that happened to lie handy, he rushed for the bank of the river.
Instinct caused him to head for a point below where Jack was standing, trying to reach some object with a long pole he handled awkwardly. Even in that thrilling moment Paul could think, and was able to understand that the ever flowing current must sweep any helpless swimmer past Jack's position in quick order.
As he ran Paul was trying to fashion a loop in the end of the rope. Had he not been perfectly calm he could never have succeeded in doing this difficult feat; but when he reached the bank he had managed to accomplish it.
What he saw was a tumble of water, which was almost covered with foam. Somewhere in
this poor Tom Betts must be floating, churned back and forth by the suction of the current that was striving to escape from the whirl.
Jack had evidently lost sight of the drowning lad completely, for he was even then running toward Paul, his face as white as chalk.