He grew breathless, but he did not slacken the pace. He went straight, splashing through trickling water and into pools, while he strained his eyes for the first glimpse of the sloop, but he could only see the mist which hid the sand thirty or forty yards in front of him. At last he made out a strip of something solid low down ahead and then what seemed to be a mast, and a few moments later he stopped at the water's edge. There was nothing but water in front of him and it was no longer quite smooth. Little ripples ran along the sand, and one broke about his feet while he gazed at them. It did not recede but splashed on, and when he looked around there was at least a yard of water behind him. Then he struggled with a paralyzing sense of dismay, and strove to keep his head. It was necessary to think and think very hard. He could not wait where he was with the water deepening about him; while, if he went back and did not find Harry before he reached it, the creek, which he would no longer be able to cross, would head him off. If he followed it up on the near side it would take him away from the canoe, and he did not know how far off the beach was. There was evidently only one thing to be done and that was to get on board the sloop even if he had to swim. She seemed a horribly long way out, but he splashed in hurriedly, afraid to wait a moment lest his resolution should melt away, and he was soon waist-deep with a strong stream swirling around him. It was almost impossible to keep his feet, the gun hampered him, and the coldness of the water seemed to check his breathing and take the power out of his limbs. He could not go back, however, and face a journey through the mist across the waste of sand, and setting his lips he struggled on. Twice he was almost swept away, but at last making a savage effort he clutched the stern of the craft and scrambled up on to her deck. The first thing he did was to light the stove, and when a pleasant warmth began to fill the cabin he was conscious of a strong desire to sit still and dry his clothes. That, unfortunately, was out of the question, and he reluctantly crawled out and stood up on deck. There was nothing but water around him now. It stretched back on every side into the mist, and the only sounds were the soft lap of the tide and the ripple it made flowing over thinly covered sand. Then having already decided that Harry would have some difficulty in paddling against the stream, he set about getting sail upon the craft to go in search of the canoe.