"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Tom, "if it isn't my old chum Fred Hope! I'd no idea he was home again."
"I don't think he sees us," said Harry; "let's give him a hail, just to show him there's help at hand. I've heard my father say that if a fellow's left long alone in a place like that he'll go crazy with the fright and the motion of the water."
Tom was not slow to take the hint. He sprang upon the bowlder behind which they were standing, and, putting both hands to his mouth, shouted, above the din of the water-fall, "Hollo, Fred, old boy! how goes it?"
"Who-o's that?" answered a faint voice, tremulous with terror.
"Why, don't you remember Tom Lockyer?"
"Oh, Tom, is that you? Get me out of this somehow, if you can."
"Never fear, old chap; we'll have you out in no time," replied Tom, cheerily.
"But how on earth are you going to do it?" whispered Harry, amazed at his friend's confident tone.
"Haven't the least idea, so far," answered the philosophic Tom, coolly; "but it's got to be done somehow. If the worst comes to the worst, I can always run home for help, while you two stay here and keep his spirits up."
"If we could only get a rope across," suggested Charlie. "He's got one there, I know, for I saw it tumble out of the boat as she swamped; but how are we to get at it?"