“Why can’t I git into the canoe?” asked Cole. “I’m afraid I’ll let go and sink.” “If you attempted to get into that canoe you’d upset it, and then you would have a chance to sink or swim,” answered Dick. “If you keep the hold you have we’ll get you close to shore so that you can wade out.” “What are you going to do?” “I am going to stay with you,” assured Dick. “Don’t be afraid of that. I’ll not try to get into that canoe.” “Could you do it without upsetting it?” “Yes.” “Then why can’t I?” “You don’t know the trick.” “Is it a trick?” “Certainly it is. Not one man in a hundred who uses a canoe can do it.” In spite of his peril Cole’s curiosity seemed to be aroused, and he asked: “How did you know the trick?” “It was taught me by an Indian,” answered Merriwell. In the meantime Buckhart was carefully and slowly paddling toward the near shore. As has been stated, this shore was very rocky, and when the prow of the canoe softly touched these rocks neither Cole nor Dick could reach bottom with his feet and still keep his head above the surface. “Jingoes!” exclaimed Merriwell, “it must fall off almost perpendicular from the water’s edge here; but we’re close to the shore, and you can swim that far, Cole.” “I don’t know,” answered Jack doubtingly. “I’m afraid I can’t do it now. My clothes are heavy as lead, and I can’t swim much, anyhow.” “I opine it’s a whole lot lucky for you that my pard went into the drink to give you a hand,” said the Texan. “Just hang on and I’ll swing the prow round close to the rocks.” This he finally did, and not until Jack Cole could almost touch the rocks did his feet reach bottom. Even then the bank seemed so precipitous that he was afraid to let go his hold on the canoe, and only with the assistance of Dick did he finally succeed in dragging himself out. Merriwell followed him. “There you are,” he said. “You had a pretty good bath, and you’re fortunate to get out of it so well.” For the first time Cole seemed to think of his late companion. “Where’s Fernald?” he asked. “Echo answers, ‘where?’” said Dick. “What became of him?” “He scooted.” “Scooted?” “Yes.” “You mean that he left me to drown?” “He didn’t linger long after you went overboard.” Slowly a look of anger came to Jack Cole’s plain face. “So that’s the kind of a man he is!” exclaimed the Maplewood boy savagely. “Left me to drown when I was all tangled up in that rope, did he? Well, he’ll hear from me!” “In the future,” suggested Buckhart, “I should advise you to be some particular in the choice of your side partners.” “Who fired that shot from the island?” demanded Dick. “What shot?” asked Jack, in apparent surprise. “Don’t you know anything about it?” “Not a thing.” “Pitch him into the drink again, partner, if he doesn’t own up!” cried the Texan, in exasperation. Cole scrambled back from the edge of the water quickly, snarling: “Don’t you try it! Don’t you touch me!”