Forrester staggered ashore, then with a life preserver on the end of a rope, he started along the river's edge. Half a dozen strokes brought Enoch to Milton. He lifted the unconscious man's mouth out of water and caught the life preserver that Forrester threw him. It seemed for a moment as if poor Forrester had reached the limit of his strength, but Enoch, after a violent effort, brought Milton into a quiet eddy and here Forrester was able to give help and Milton was dragged up on the rocks.
At this moment, Jonas, his eyes rolling, clothes torn and dripping, clambered round a rocky projection, just beyond where they were placing Milton.
"Got 'em ashore!" he panted, "but they can't walk yet."
"Anybody hurt?" asked Enoch.
"Nobody but the Na-che. I gotta take the Ida out after her."
"She's beyond help, Jonas," said Enoch. "Go up to the Ida and bring me the medicine chest."
He was unbuttoning Milton's shirt as he spoke, and feeling for his heart.
"He's alive!" exclaimed Forrester, who was holding Milton's wrist.
"Yes, thank God! But I don't like that!" pointing to Milton's left leg.
"It's broken!" cried Forrester. "Poor old Milt!"