It required all his strength to pull this drag and its burden the two hundred feet required down the beach.
"The mischief!" cried Dave, as, panting, he reached the spot where he had left the rudely improvised raft.
It was nowhere in sight, and he readily surmised that he had carelessly left it too near the surf, which had carried it away.
"Whatever am I to do now?" thought Dave. "I can't swim to the Swallow with this man. I must find the material for a new raft. Pshaw! there's a call to time."
Dave glanced keenly seawards. Then with due haste he dragged mattress and burden back into the brush out of sight.
Peering thence, he watched a little launch making for the wooded island at the point where the blue signal shone.
"The pilot, of course," said Dave. "He has come to see his friend. What will he do when he fails to find him?"
With some anxiety Dave Fearless watched the little launch come nearer and nearer to the wooded island.
CHAPTER XI
A RACE FOR LIFE