From time to time they cast anxious glances toward the men, who could be plainly seen in the increasing light. They were making good progress through the water and, although they would be obliged to swim a part of the way, both the boys recognized the fact that their start would be short. “Think we’d better stick to the scow and let her go down river?” Jack whispered. “I don’t know but it would be safer,” Bob replied. “If you and I were the only ones to be considered I’d say run for it but I’m afraid Rex wouldn’t hold out. Guess we’d better stick to the ship.” They were only about ten feet from the shore when they came to this conclusion and Bob was about to announce their decision to Rex when his eye caught sight of something, a short distance above them, which made him change his mind. “We’ll have to run for it after all,” he whispered to Jack. “See, there’s a skiff up there and they’d get it and chase us and, as you know, the rips end only about a half mile below, and in that slow water, they’d catch us in no time.” “How about taking the skiff with us?” “We wouldn’t have time,” Bob answered. “There’s nothing to do but run for it.” “Down river,” Bob ordered, as the scow hit the bank, “Caratunk is only about a mile below here and if we can make the town we’ll be safe.” Glancing back, as he spoke, he saw that the foremost of the Frenchmen was about twenty yards above them and was making the water fly as he swam with powerful strokes toward the shore only a short distance away. The others were not far behind. “We’ve got to make it snappy, now,” he cried as he led the way. They were by no means in good shape to start on a run through the snow after their strenuous work of poling the heavy scow, but he consoled himself with the thought that their pursuers would be even more winded after their swim. He sat a pace as rapid as he dare. He knew that Rex would soon give out, should he go as fast as he and Jack were able. It was now nearly daylight. The snow was soft and mushy as the night had been too warm to harden it. It was hard footing as in many places they sank nearly to their knees. As he pushed on he could hear Rex puffing a few feet behind him and his heart sank as he noticed that his friend’s breath was already coming in gasps. “He’ll stick to it till he drops,” he thought, as he came to a stop after they had covered about a hundred yards. “Let’s breathe a minute,” he said. “S-second the motion,” Rex panted as he leaned against a tree. “Hear anything?” Bob asked. “Not a sound,” Jack replied straining his ears. “Mebby they won’t follow us,” Rex suggested. “Mebby not,” Bob replied, but he knew that the hope was without much foundation. “You’ll get your second wind in a minute or two,” Bob encouraged Rex as he started again. But they had made scarcely another hundred yards when, from the sound close behind him, Bob realized that Rex was near the end of his endurance.