“Are you loaded?” said the doctor, as we ran on, and his voice sounded hoarse with emotion.
I nodded, for I could not speak, and, full of the idea that our little camp had been attacked by savages and that some of our followers were being killed, I ran on.
It was hard work and like running in a nightmare to get back to our starting-place, for there was always some thorn or tangle that we had not noticed in our careful advance seeming to stop us on our way; but at last we came within sight of the spot where we had left Jack Penny, but he was not there.
“There’s something wrong at the camp,” I panted.
“Be cool,” replied the doctor, “we may have to fire. Try and keep your nerve. Ah!”
This ejaculation was consequent upon our simultaneously catching sight of Jack Penny, up to the armpits in the river, holding on by the branch of a tree.
As he saw us he shouted lustily for help. It was no drawl now, but a sharp quick shout.
I ran down the bank and the doctor following, we joined hands, when, catching at Jack’s wrist, I held on tightly.
“Now, then,” I said, as I gazed wonderingly in his ghastly face and staring eyes, “let go, and we’ll draw you ashore.”
“No, no,” he cried hoarsely. “Got hold of me—drag me in.”