Before he had time to speculate as to her errand, she reappeared with a bottle of brandy in her hand.
"Now, come along. If he's as bad as you say, there's not a moment to lose."
They set off down the path, and as they passed the Kanakas' hut, she cried:
"Jimmy Rhotoma!"
A big Kanaka rolled out of the kitchen.
"Man drowned along Alligator Bay. Look sharp!"
Then signing to her companion to follow, she set off at a run across the space between the huts and along the scrub-path towards the sea. Ellison followed close behind her, dimly conscious of the graceful figure twisting and turning through the undergrowth ahead of him. When she reached the open land on the other side of the headland, she paused and looked about her; then, making out the figure stretched upon the sands, she ran towards it. With a swiftness that betokened considerable experience she placed her hand upon his heart. No, he was not dead; it was not too late to save him. As she came to this conclusion, Jimmy Rhotoma appeared, and the trio set to work to restore animation. It was some time before their efforts were rewarded. Then Murkard sighed wearily, half-opened his eyes, and rolled his head over to the other side.
"He'll do now, poor fellow," said the woman, still chafing his left hand. "But it was a very close thing. What on earth induced you to try and swim the straits?"
"Despair, I suppose. We're both of us as nearly done for as it is possible for men to be. We tried the settlement yesterday for work, but nothing offered. Then we heard of your station, and thought we'd swim across on chance."
"I don't know that I altogether like the look of either of you. Beach-combers, I fancy, aren't you?"