“No, sir; he ain’t, sir,” cried Gedge; “he’s coming round all right. It’s more that crack in the ear I give him than the water. I hit him as hard as I could. There! look, gents; his eyes is winking.”
It was as the lad said; the unfortunate non-swimmer’s eyelids were quivering slightly, and at the end of a minute he opened them widely and stared vacantly at the sunny sky. The officers were bending over him, when they received a broad hint that their position was known, a couple of shots being fired from the farther bank, higher up-stream, one of which struck the rock above them and splintered off a few scraps, which fell pattering down.
“Quick!” cried Roberts. “We must get those two along here for a bit. The high part will shelter us then; but as soon as possible we must have another try for the shore.”
The shelter was soon reached, and all crouched together in the sunshine, with the water streaming from them, the officers busily scanning the bank of the rushing river opposite, and calculating the possibility of reaching it. There was plenty of cover, and very little likelihood of the enemy crossing the river in its swollen state; but there was that mad nice some twenty yards wide to get over with two helpless men; and at last Roberts spoke in a low tone to his companions.
“I can’t see how it’s to be done, boys. I dare say we four could reach the bank somewhere; but we’re heavily handicapped by those two who can’t swim.”
“And there isn’t time to teach them now,” said Drummond sardonically.
“And we can’t leave them,” said Bracy. “What’s to be done?”
Gedge was eager to offer a suggestion upon the slightest encouragement, and this he obtained from Roberts, who turned to him.
“How’s the sprain, my lad?”
“Bit stiff, sir; that’s all,” was the reply. “Water done it a lot o’ good.”