Then he was torn away.
A deafening roar rang in his ears; he seemed to be fairly lifted above the madly swirling water, then forced beneath, and when, gasping and choking, he rose to the surface, it was within the gloomy gorge, with nothing but rocky walls on either hand.
Yes, Bob and Dave were there, too.
The current was now smooth and even, and the three, notwithstanding their exhausted condition, found little difficulty in keeping to the surface. The "Speedy" could be seen not far ahead.
Bob Somers felt a strange calmness steal over him; the first crushing shock had gone, and even when, a few minutes later, a steady murmur rose above the gurgle of the lapping water, it did not seem to increase his agitation.
The cataract was not far ahead.
The sound rapidly increased in volume, a steady droning, musical and solemn.
The swimmers shot around a jutting crag; then Bob Somers felt like uttering a shout. Hope swept away the unnatural calmness, and renewed his strength.
The river widened out; on the left side a green field, dotted with trees, sloped gently to the water's edge.
"Let's try to land there," cried Bob, and the boys struck out in that direction. The current was swift, and they realized that an instant's delay would result in their being swept down to the falls. Already more than half the green shore was behind them, when Bob Somers won his battle. He grasped an overhanging tree and pulled himself up on the bank. Then, a bit further along, Dave Brandon crawled up on a shelving rock, and lastly, Sam Randall.