"I see you have got one of them," he said. "Do you know him?"
"I never saw him before," Andrew answered. "Where's the other?"
"Gone down, I think. We saw him trying to swim, but the tide swept him up the gut, and when we were getting close he disappeared. We pulled round the spot, but saw nothing. No doubt, he'd have on his oilskins and sea-boots."
"Well, this fellow's hurt. Will you take him?"
"Certainly. And you'd better come with us. You're Mr. Johnstone, I suppose. We were told to look out for you. We launched our gig as soon as we saw your flare."
Andrew said that he must get back to his boat and barely would have time enough to do so; and after a hurried account of the affair, he set off across the sands with his companions. Though they lost sight of the water presently, they made the best pace they could, and the Annan man, whom Andrew had recognized, related Dick's attempt to join him.
"It's as weel, Mr. Johnstone stayed behind," he concluded. "I'm thinking it was the fellow ye caught who set your dinghy adrift and he'd maybe have a mate hanging roon the Nance."
When they came down to the channel, the tide was rising fast and the Nance had gone. The other boat was floating, but was held by the anchor the fisherman had carried up the bank. There was no answer to their hail and Andrew plunged into the water.
"Mr. Johnstone's nae doot in the den. He wasna' looking weel," said the fisherman.
Andrew was on board in a few moments, and as he looked into the forecastle while the others pulled the boat ashore, it was with relief that he heard Dick's voice.