He
had anticipated this, however, and now began to work his way back
against the current by pulling himself from one bush to another. When
he reached a point abreast the raft the others saw him and shouted. He
only waved his hand in reply and kept on, while they watched him with
eager interest. As he gained a position opposite the canoe they
shouted again, but still he kept on, until he was nearly a hundred
yards above it.
Then, after a long rest, he left the friendly oleanders, and struck out
with brave strokes for the coveted object. He was now again swimming
diagonally across the current, and knew that even should he miss the
canoe, he would be borne down to the raft. But he did not miss it. He
had calculated too well for that; and when he again reached the raft,
he brought the _Psyche_ with him.
He was chilled to the bone, numb, and sick with exhaustion; but for
such a royal cheer as greeted him, and the praises that his companions
showered upon him, he would have dared and suffered twice as much. At
the same moment, as if to encourage such brave deeds, the sun shone out
warm and bright, transforming the whole character of the scene with its
cheery warmth.
Sumner Rankin was ready, and with a light heart he stepped into his
beloved craft. Then, with vigorous strokes of his double-bladed
paddle, he shot away towards the river, where he was to remain until he
could persuade a boat of some kind to come to the relief of his
fellow-sufferers.
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