“Say, they are fighting hard,” said Fielding. “That bloody little fool is choking the life out of Dunbar. My God! they are out of sight!”
“Go on,” roared Knight. “Keep your eyes on the spot, and for Heaven's sake, paddle!”
“They are up again! One of them is. It's Barry. The other is gone. No, by Jove! he's got him! Hold on, Barry, we're coming,” yelled Tom. “Stick to it, old boy!”
Swiftly the canoe sped toward the drowning men.
“They are gone this time for sure,” cried Tom, as the canoe shot over the spot where the men had last been seen.
“Not much!” said Knight, as reaching out of the stern he gripped Barry by the hair. “Hold hard, Barry,” he said quietly. “No monkey work now or you'll drown us all.” Immediately Barry ceased struggling.
“Don't try to get in, Barry. We'll have to tow you ashore.”
“All right, Jim,” he said between his sobbing breaths. “Only—hurry up—I've got him—here.”
Knight reached down carefully, lifted Barry till his hand touched the gunwale of the canoe.
“Not too hard, Barry,” he said. “I'll ease you round to the stern. Steady, boy, steady. Don't dump us.”