The man with the boat was now so close to the shore that he could touch bottom. He stood up and waded out, pushing the boat along and dragging it up on the beach. Having done this, the fellow turned and looked at the approaching lads. He seemed undecided for a moment, but suddenly wheeled about and plunged into the swampy woods, vanishing from view. Hodge saw this movement, and wondered at it, but said nothing to Merriwell, feeling that Frank needed to give his entire attention to the task of getting ashore with Welch. Nearer and nearer to the shore Merriwell struggled. He moved slower and slower, and it was plain that the task was a heavy drain upon his energy and endurance. Bart feared that Frank would give out, but this did not happen. Finally Hodge said: “I think you can stand up here, Merry. Try it—see if your feet will touch bottom.” Frank did so, and found he could touch the bottom and have his head out of the water, which enabled him to walk ashore. Bart got out upon the beach and helped Frank drag Welch upon the sand. Merriwell was panting, but he regarded with the greatest anxiety the lad he had brought to land. “He’s drowned!” cried Hodge. “He is done for, Frank!” “Off with your coat!” exclaimed Merriwell, panting. “Give me my coat and shoes from the canoe. Quick! We must hustle if we bring him round!” Taking the shoes, Frank wrapped the coat about them, making a hard roll or bundle. Then he placed the bundle on the beach, and, aided by Bart, lay Welch, face down, upon it so it pressed upon his stomach. Having placed the unconscious lad in this position, with the collar of his shirt ripped open, Merriwell began pressing upon his back just below his shoulder blades, and with each pressure water spurted from the lad’s mouth. “If we can get him to breathing after we get this water out of him, he’ll come round,” said Frank, anxiously. They did not work more than a minute before Welch choked and groaned, causing Frank to express relief. “He’s coming round so quick,” said Merry. “We’ll have him all right in short order.” Now Welch groaned and choked in a most distressing manner. The boys knew he was suffering fearful tortures, but they kept at work till he ceased to expel water. Then Frank placed him in a position to breathe easily, and they saw him staring up at them with wide-open eyes. “You are all right,” said Merry; “but it was a close shave.” “Oh!” groaned Welch; “I’d rather die than go through that again! How did I get here?” “You got here by being brought by Frank Merriwell,” said Hodge, scowling at Welch. “He risked his life to save you from drowning, and you didn’t deserve it.” Welch said nothing for some moments, but seemed trying to collect his scattered wits. At last he asked: “Where is Bunker?” “The man you were with?” “Yes.” “He skipped into the swamp somewhere.” “And left me?” “Yes. He got ashore first, and he——”