Upon examination Ken found two little bloody holes in the muscles of Pepe’s leg. A single shot had passed through. Ken bathed the wounds with an antiseptic lotion and bound them with clean bandages. Pepe appeared to be pretty weak, so Ken did not ask him to take the oars. Then, pulling with long, steady stroke, Ken set out to put a long stretch between him and the angry natives. The current was swift, and Ken made five miles or more an hour. He kept that pace for three hours without a rest. And then he gave out. It seemed that all at once he weakened. His back bore an immense burden. His arms were lead, and his hands were useless. There was an occasional mist or veil before his sight. He was wet, hot, breathless, numb. But he knew he was safe from pursuit. So he rested and let the boat drift. George sat up, green in the face, a most miserable-looking boy. But that he could sit up at all was hopeful. “Oh, my head!” he moaned. “Is there anything I can drink? My mouth is dry--pasted shut.” Ken had two lemons he had been saving. He cut one in halves and divided it between Pepe and George. The relief the sour lemon afforded both showed Ken how wise he had been to save the lemons. Then he roused Hal, and, lifting the lad’s head, made him drink a little of the juice. Hal was a sick boy, too weak to sit up without help. “Don’t--you worry--Ken,” he said. “I’m going--to be--all right.” Hal was still fighting. Ken readjusted the palm-leaf shelter over the boys so as to shade them effectually from the hot sun, and then he went back to the oars. As he tried once more to row, Ken was reminded of the terrible lassitude that had overtaken him the day he had made the six-hour climb out of the Grand Cañon. The sensation now was worse, but Ken had others depending upon his exertions, and that spurred him to the effort which otherwise would have been impossible. It was really not rowing that Ken accomplished. It was a weary puttering with oars he could not lift, handles he could not hold. At best he managed to guide the boat into the swiftest channels. Whenever he felt that he was just about to collapse, then he would look at Hal’s pale face. That would revive him. So the hot hours dragged by. They came, after several miles, upon more huts and natives. And farther down they met canoes on the river. Pepe interrogated the natives. According to George, who listened, Panuco was far, far away, many kilometers. This was most disheartening. Another native said the village was just round the next bend. This was most nappy information. But it turned out to be a lie. There was no village around any particular bend--nothing save bare banks for miles. The stretches of the river were long, and bends far apart. Ken fell asleep. When he awoke he found Pepe at the oars. Watching him, Ken fancied he was recovering, and was overjoyed.