How short the time seemed then, and how easily Nic glided down, till he became aware of the fact that Pete was leaning over the side, knife in hand, watching eagerly. This sent a shudder through the swimmer, setting him thinking again of the perils that might be near, and how unlikely any effort of Pete’s would be to save him should one of the reptiles attack.
The dread, however, soon passed off, for Nic’s every nerve was strained to force the bundle of canes across the stream, so that it might drift right down upon the boat.
He could only succeed in part, and it soon became evident that he would float by yards away; but Pete was on the alert. He cast the boat adrift from where he had secured it to a drooping bough, and giving a few vigorous pulls with one oar, in another minute he had leaned over the bows, grasped his companion’s hands, dragged him into the boat, and then, as the buoyant bundle of canes floated away, the poor fellow sank back in the bottom of the boat and lay staring helplessly.
“Don’t you take no notice o’ me, Master Nic,” he said hoarsely. “Just put an oar over the ztarn and keep her head ztraight. Zhe’ll go down fast enough. We ought to row up to fetch that fish we left, but we couldn’t do it, zir; for I’m dead beat trying to get to you—just dead beat.”
He closed his eyes, and then opened them again as he felt the warm grasp of Nic’s hand, smiled at him, till his eyelids dropped again, and then sank into a deep stupor more than sleep.