Hastily undressing himself, he shook hands with Arend and Willem, dropped into the flood, and was away with the rapidity of an arrow.
Anxiously the others gazed after him; but in less than three minutes, he was no longer under their eyes, the rough rapid current having carried him clean out of sight.
Two hours passed, which were spent by Arend and Groot Willem in, a state of anxious suspense. Two hours more and it became terrible.
“Night is fast approaching,” remarked Arend. “If Hendrik does not return before night, I shall swim after him.”
“Yes, we may as well, while we have the strength to do it,” answered Willem. “If you go, so will I. We shall start together. How long do you think we should wait?”
“Not much longer. Certainly within a mile, he ought to have found a place where he could land. That distance he must soon have made, at the rate he was travelling when he left us. He should return soon now, or never.”
Another hour passed and still no signs of Hendrik.
“Remain you, Willem,” proposed Arend, “and let me go alone.”
“No,” replied the great hunter; “we go together. I once thought that I should never abandon my gun as long as I lived; but it must be. We must not stay here any longer. I grow weaker every hour.”
The two were taking off their boots and preparing to enter the water, when their ears were saluted by the sound of a familiar voice.