“It’s Forbes!” he shouted wildly. “The canoe, quick,” and snatching the heavy craft, he fairly threw it into the river and sprang in.
Canaris leaped after him, and seizing paddles they drove the canoe swiftly toward the distant sound.
“We are coming, Melton; we are coming,” cried Guy. “We’ll save you yet.”
In their haste the lighted torch had been left behind, but fortunately the Greek had matches, and in an instant another torch was lit and flaring cheerfully over the water.
“This way, Chutney,” came a feeble voice below them. “Hurry up. I’m nearly exhausted.”
A few rapid strokes of the paddle brought them within sight of a struggling object on the surface of the water, and as the canoe ran skilfully alongside, Guy dropped his paddle, and, leaning out, seized the drowning man by the collar. With almost superhuman strength he dragged him into the canoe without assistance.
“Thank God!” he cried, “he’s safe. Speak to me, Forbes. Are you hurt?”
But Melton lay white and helpless in the bottom of the boat, too exhausted to reply.
“He’s all right,” said Canaris. “Don’t make him talk. Take your paddle, Chutney. We’ll have a struggle to make the island.”
The Greek was right. Far above them shone the flickering torch, and the current was bearing them further away.