“Well, we were smart to land, Jimmy,” said Alf, as they stood looking at the stream where it flowed beyond the little peninsula. “But it certainly is pretty. We’ll have to watch our step getting down where we can see the falls. Doesn’t she foam where she is going over? Do you imagine the falls are high?”
“Can’t tell, Alf,” Jimmy said. “Looks like quite a ravine down ahead; but this whole region isn’t very high and it probably dams up into some other little lake. Come on.”
“Wait till I go back after the rope, Jim,” said Alf. “We may need it, if we climb down by the falls.”
Alf picked his way back the short distance to the canoe and brought the rope. They followed the curving shore toward the left, where the waters that swept past the point went wildly on in the wider channel to fall over—somewhere.
Jimmy, with the rope over his shoulder, stood still; Alf thought it might be better to strike through the trees and avoid the rocks on the edge. Jimmy surveyed the water at his feet, the scattered rocks washed by the current, and looked upstream just in time to see Brook’s face as Brook saw the falls ahead.
“Alf!” Jimmy yelled, horrified. “Look there! It’s Brook!”
Only a moment did Jimmy stare. He slipped the loop already made over his head and tightened it about his waist. Alf needed no directions. What they had to do must be done quickly. They both started running to a point that would bring them nearer to Brook’s course.
“Brook—Brook!” they kept shouting. “This way!”
Brook did not hear them, but just at that moment his pale face turned toward the boys and he saw them.
“This way! This way!” cried Jimmy, beckoning. If Brook could only get out of that awful central current—but maybe it was all current!