Suddenly the song ceases to float across the water. It comes so suddenly to a stop that John Craig sits up in the other boat and clutches the arm of the professor.
"Listen! I thought I heard a slight scream."
"Nonsense!" exclaims Aunt Gwen.
"That British prig—"
"Sir Lionel is a gentleman. He would not sully his reputation by a word or deed."
"There—again."
"That time I heard it, too. Boatman, bend to your oars, and pull. There is something wrong with the other boat," cries the professor.
Then across the bounding waters comes a hail, in the lion-like voice of the Briton. A hail that stirs the blood in their veins until it runs like molten lava—a hail that tells of danger.
"Ho! there, this way, quick! We're sinking! sprung aleak!"
Such is the cry that comes to them.