“I don’t know,” said Chot. “I wish we had a light. I expect we’d better make for the canoes.”
“Help, help!” came the cry again, this time fainter than before.
“Wait,” said Hoki.
He dashed into the lodge and turned a button that flooded the gallery with light. Then the boys saw him spring to a small contrivance on one end of the verandah, and which until now had passed unnoticed by them.
The next instant they knew it was a small searchlight, for a streak of white light shot suddenly out on to the river, moved here and there under Hoki’s skillful manipulation, then settled down upon a spot where the figure of a man or boy could be seen clinging to the bottom of an upturned skiff.
“Now, go,” said Hoki. “I wait by light.”
“And I’ll stay with you,” said Fleet, and Chot nodded a vigorous assent.
Chot, Tom and Pod ran quickly down to the bank where they had left their canoes, and pushing them into the water, paddled rapidly in the direction of the light.
“That doesn’t look like Bert,” said Tom.
“Help, fellows—I’m all in,” said the voice again, and there was something strangely familiar about it.