"What's the matter?" he cried, and stopped rowing instantly.
"Look! look! St. John's boat has gone on the rocks and he is overboard!" she gasped.
"How foolish for him to row so close," was Jack's comment. And then he added, in something like disgust, "I reckon the race is off now."
"We must go back for him," went on Marion. "See, he has disappeared."
The girl was right, the weight of St. John's clothing had carried him beneath the surface. The swiftly running water had likewise caught him, and when he came up it was at a point fifty feet away from the nearest rock.
"He will be drowned, Jack!"
"Help! help!" came in a faint cry from the spendthrift. "Help me, Jack! Don't leave me to perish!"
"Keep up, I'm coming!" answered Jack readily, and as quickly as he could he turned his boat and pulled in the direction where St. John had again sunk from sight.
The spendthrift was but an indifferent swimmer, and the weight of his clothing was much against him. Moreover, he was scared to death, and threw his arms around wildly instead of doing his best to save himself.
He had gone down once, and now, as Jack's boat came closer, he went down a second time.