“He can’t come this way! I’ve got to throw him an end of the rope.” As Jimmy spoke he was busy tying a stone on the end of the rope to weight it. What a risk it was! Jimmy was wading out to a great rock, in a shallow where the shore curved. This was no game. He must not miss.
Alf waded after Jimmy to help him hold on to the rope. There was still a good chance, if they were successful, to rescue Brook. It was some distance to the falls, but now the canoe Brook was in seemed to be coming faster.
Now. Jimmy threw, and Jimmy had not played ball for nothing. Brook did not catch the rope, but weighted by the stone it fell into the canoe and Brook grasped it before it could slip back. Now his paddle was whirling out of sight. Brook was standing up in the canoe, with the rope tied around him, ready to jump.
Alf braced himself, and Jimmy held the rope tightly just in front of where it was around him and drew it taut as Brook leaped. The rope drew in easily at first. Then came the tug against the current. Jimmy leaned against the rock to brace himself.
It was all over in a few anxious moments. Brook had bruised himself among the rocks, but he swam, crept upon a rock, leaped to another, found himself in quieter waters and was helped to his feet by two fast-breathing boys who could scarcely speak.
“How—did you get here?” gasped Brook as they helped him ashore.
“That’s the question we would like to ask you,” answered Jimmy after a brief silence during which they examined Brook to see if he had any broken bones.
“I’ll tell you about it,” Brook said shamefacedly. “I—I’m awfully sorry, Jimmy. I hope the canoe will come through all right, but I don’t see how it can. I’ll make it good, Jimmy, I promise you.”
“We’ll see about that later,” returned Jimmy. “The point is, are you all right?”
“I—guess so,” Brook said sheepishly. “Got some bruised shins, I think. It didn’t do me any good.”