At that instant a new form hovered close to him. It was the red-haired Sam. With quick instinct Dan thrust the rope into the hands of his companion, and struck out for the surface. Those in the boats made him out the instant his head was poked above the water. The boats were close by. “There he is!” yelled a voice. “Wait; we’ll cast a rope.” Dan shook his head, once more plunging under, swimming for the bottom with long, powerful strokes. He had great difficulty this time in finding the spot he was in search of, for in his rise to the surface he had been carried some twenty feet from the place where Kester lay. He reached it at last. Sam had gotten the rope about the neck of the diver but was too much exhausted to make a hitch. Dan pushed him toward the surface. Working desperately Davis at last succeeded in completing the work that Sam had well-nigh finished. The boy’s mind was working with lightning-like rapidity. He knew that he could not hope to get the drowning man to the surface by his own efforts. There was only one way that this could possibly be accomplished. That was to get to the surface himself and try to draw Kester up. Dan did not know whether the rope would reach that distance or not. “I must do it!” he thought. Grasping the end of the rope he dashed upward for the surface. On the way he met a figure coming down. It was Sam. Dan grabbed him and by a series of quick pinches managed to convey the word that the red-headed boy was to return to the surface. Sam wriggled about and struck out for the upper air. Hickey’s red head appeared in a swirl of water and spray. He shook his head, gasping for breath, nearly drowning himself in the effort to get even a little fresh air into his lungs. An instant later Dan leaped to the surface. Dan gave a wig-wag signal with one hand, meaning “help.” By this time the small boats had drifted too far away to be able to reach them quickly. But steamer number one had reached the scene. She gave a short, sharp blast of her whistle to show that those aboard had seen and understood the situation. “Is he lost?” gasped Sam. “N-n-no. I’ve got him at the end of the rope. Help me quick. He must be dead by this time. There comes the steamer. Oh, why don’t they hurry?” “Where is the rope?” “Here! Help me with it. I’m getting tired.” Dan was holding to the rope with all his strength, trying to retain his hold of it and at the same time keep himself from sinking. Some invisible power seemed to be pulling him downward. The ensign and his oarsman had gotten aboard the steamer, trailing their wherry behind it. The ensign was standing in the bow with a rope in his hand. As the steamer, lifting on a great swell, dropped down within reaching distance he made a cast. Dan reached for the rope and missed it. “Lay alongside, sir,” commanded Dan, with a feeble effort at saluting with his injured hand. “Can’t do it. We will run you down in this sea. Look out for the next cast.”