Stonor still sought to parley. “What are you afraid of? You’re both armed. What could I do? And you sleep like cats. I couldn’t move hand or foot without waking you. I can’t work all day, and sleep without being able to stretch myself.”
While he talked he manœuvred to keep himself between Imbrie and the woman. Imbrie, to avoid the danger of hitting her, was obliged to keep circling round Stonor. Finally Stonor got him between him and the water. This was the moment he was waiting for. His muscles were braced like steel springs. Plunging at Imbrie, he got under the gun-barrel and bore the man back into the river. The gun was discharged harmlessly into the air. The beach sloped away sharply, and the force of his rush carried them both into three feet of water. They went under. Imbrie dropped his gun, and clung to Stonor with the desperate, instinctive grip of the non-swimmer. Like a ray of light the thought flashed through Stonor’s brain: “I have him on equal terms now!”
As they went under he was aware of the woman rushing into the water after him with the knife raised. He twisted his body so that Imbrie came uppermost and she was unable to strike. Stonor saw Clare running to the water’s edge.
“Get her gun!” he cried.
Clare swerved to where it stood leaning against the overturned dug-out. The woman turned back, but Clare secured the gun before she was out of the water, and dashed into the thick bushes with it. Meanwhile Stonor dragged the struggling Imbrie into deeper water. They lost their footing and went under again. The woman, after a pause of agonized indecision, ran to the dug-out, and, righting it, pushed it into the water.
Stonor, striking out as he could, carried his burden out beyond a man’s depth. The current carried them slowly down. They were as much under the water as on top, but Stonor cannily held his breath, while Imbrie struggled insanely. Stonor, with his knee against the other’s chest, broke his strangle-hold, and got him turned over on his back. Imbrie’s struggles began to weaken.
Meanwhile the dug-out was bearing down on them. Stonor waited until it came abreast and the woman swung her paddle to strike. Then letting go of Imbrie, he sank, and swimming under water, rose to the surface some yards distant. He saw that the woman had Imbrie by the hair. In this position it was impossible for her to wield her paddle, and the current was carrying her down. Stonor turned about and swam blithely back to the island.
Clare, still carrying the gun, came out of the bushes to meet him. They clasped hands.
“I knew there was only one bullet,” she said. “I was afraid to fire at the woman for fear of missing her.”
“You did right,” he said.