So Juan rose up and saw that what Diego had said was quite true, and they both immediately began paddling with their hands. And they soon found that it was not an idle thing to do, and that the canoe was getting at each moment nearer the rocky shore, until it was not more than fifty yards away, when the boys agreed that it was time to swim.
So they dropped silently over the side, one after the other, and swam with what strength they had for the shore. Fortunately, for they were not in good vigor, the shore shelved off so gradually that when Diego dropped his feet to rest himself, he discovered that he could touch bottom. Whereupon he stood up and reached out his hand to Juan, who was panting and making but a feeble stroke.
They rested there a moment, and then made their way ashore, trembling at each step lest they should be discovered either by a passing canoe or by the children in their play.
They reached the shore in safety, however, and would have sunk on the first dry rock from sheer exhaustion had they dared. But fear kept them moving, until they had gained a spot behind some jagged rocks close up under the base of the cliff. There they both sank down, and it was a long time before either moved or spoke. It was Diego who spoke first.
“I did not know how weak I was,” he said.
“Nor I,” answered Juan. “Must we lie here until dark? I seem to be starving.”
“Do you lie here,” said Diego, “and I will steal to the edge of the cape and see what there is beyond.”
“No,” said Juan, rising to his feet, “if there is a risk, let us take it together. Besides, I feel stronger now. It must have been the sun, I think. Come! let us go together. But keep close to the cliff.”
“THERE THEY BOTH SANK DOWN.”