"We'll land at that point below," said Jimmy, indicating the spot meant. "We can leap ashore, and—well, we'll have to trust to luck."
"Yes, I'll feel better once we get ashore," said Roger.
They looked at the figures on the raft. Some of the Germans were dead, and others, apparently, dying. There was nothing Roger and Jimmy could do, and, watching their chance, when the raft was within a few feet of the shore they jumped off.
There was a rope fastened to one end of the crude craft, and, catching hold of it as he leaped ashore, Jimmy cried to the officer:
"Do you want to be made fast here?"
The man muttered something in his own tongue, but as it did not seem to be an answer in the affirmative to Jimmy's question, the lad tossed his end of the rope on the raft and let the structure go floating on down stream.
"They'll have to take their chance, same as we did," remarked Jimmy. "Though I'd have anchored them if they'd said the word."
"They may be rescued by friends below here," suggested Roger. "And now what are we going to do? It's going to be dark soon, and we don't know which way to go to get back to our lines."
"You said something then!" declared Jimmy. "It's going to rain, too. I felt a few drops. Say, this is about the worst plight we've been in since we left Camp Sterling."
"Oh, it might be worse!" declared Roger, with as much optimism as he could muster. "Let's hike along until we get somewhere and find something to eat."