“We will!” cried the Jersey twins, and together they darted for the place where the rowing craft were stored.
Langridge seemed stupefied at the result of his act. He stood there, peering down into the water beneath which Tom had disappeared.
“Get back, I tell you! Get back!” yelled Woodhouse. “We can’t get him out if you tilt the float so. We’ll all be in the water!”
Understanding this, the crowd of lads and girls moved back. Captain Woodhouse was peering over the edge of the dock, looking for a sight of Tom, and meanwhile was taking off his coat and vest, preparatory to a plunge in.
“There he is! I see his head!” suddenly cried Miss Tyler, and she pointed to a dark object barely visible in the shadows that were settling down over the river.
“I’ll get him!” cried Langridge thickly, but he could not seem to unbutton his coat.
“Look out!” cried a voice, and a tall, lithe figure, clad only in a rowing jersey and trunks, pattered in bare feet down the length of the float.
“It’s Fenmore!” exclaimed several, and the tall sophomore, who had been out in a single shell and who, arriving at the float, had understood what had happened, plunged in. He swam quickly to Tom, who seemed bewildered and unable to help himself. But, if he was dazed, which they later found to be the case, he had sense enough to let Fenmore rescue him in the proper fashion and was soon being lifted out on the float. His face was pale and blood from a cut on his forehead trickled down one cheek.
“Much hurt?” asked Dan Woodhouse as he put his arms about Tom.