“No,” gasped Joe, fearing the dauntless little fellow might put his suggestion immediately into practice, “for Heben’s sake, no, Brevet!” and then Brevet tightened his hold as though realising there might be some danger. How great the danger only Joe himself knew, and he feared more than once that he would have to give up—that he could not save Brevet after all.
Harry’s search for help had been futile, and, rushing back to the shore, what was his joy to discover that Joe had dared to disobey orders and had safely crossed to the island! But what a terrible risk the old man was running, and, oh, the chagrin, young man that he was, of not being able himself to attempt the rescue! With bated breath he watched Joe’s start for the mainland, and then saw instantly how even the first return strokes taxed his strength to the full. At the point for which he was making the far-spreading limbs of two old live-oaks extended out over the river, and Harry, plunging into the water and clinging by his good arm to the heavier of two parallel branches, was able to make his way to its extreme end, quite a distance from the shore.
“Steer right for me, Joe,” he called, in a voice of earnest entreaty. “See where I am, Joe, I can help you from here.” But a sudden blackness had come before Joe’s eyes, and he could see nothing.
Meantime Courage had hurried from the house the first moment she could be spared; had reached the river’s edge and instantly took in the situation. It would be little enough Harry could do even if poor Joe succeeded in reaching him—it was for her to gain some point as near him as possible, and be ready to lend a hand as well. Throwing aside a cloak she had caught up for protection, she strode into the water, and by aid of the same strong limb to which Harry was clinging, was able to take her place close behind him. Meantime not for one instant did Harry intermit his calls of encouragement, until at last the overhanging branch was almost reached.
“Joe,” he then called, in a voice of commanding entreaty, “one stroke more! Now lay hold of me and you’re safe.” Joe had hardly consciousness enough left to obey, but he made one stroke more, and then his arms grasped something, he hardly knew what, with an iron grip, and barely keeping his head above water, his body dragged helplessly down the river with the current.
“And what shall I do?” gasped Brevet quickly, for he had at last fully realised the struggle of the crossing and knew that Joe’s strength was all but gone.
“You lay hold of my arm, Brevet,” cried Courage; “now let go of Joe; now cling to me and pull yourself up here on this limb. Quick, quick, Brevet, don’t lose a moment—there—now lie flat down and keep perfectly still with your arms firm around the branch under you. Now what?” in a voice of bewildered appeal to Harry.