They left their motorcycles on the side of the road and hurried back up the slope, then cut down across a narrow strip of weeds and grass until they came to the top of the declivity. They could still see the victim of the explosion struggling in the waves. The man had seized a piece of wreckage and was able to remain afloat, but the boys knew it was only a matter of time before his strength would give out. “Looks to be almost all in,” remarked Frank. “I wonder if he’s anybody we know,” came from his brother. “It isn’t likely.” Frank reached out suddenly and caught hold of Joe’s arm. “Look out there or you may break a leg.” “It certainly is mighty slippery,” answered Joe, as he managed to regain his footing. He had come close to going heels over head on the rocks. Slipping and scrambling, they made their way down the slope toward the little cove. Rocks went rolling and tumbling ahead of them. The distance was only a few yards, but the slope was steep and a false step might result in broken bones. But they reached the bottom in safety and there they came upon the rowboat. It was battered and old, but evidently still seaworthy. “Into the water with her!” said Frank. They seized the boat and the keel grated on the shingle as the little craft was launched. Swiftly, they fixed the oars in the locks and then they scrambled into their places. They began to row with strong, steady strokes out toward the man in the bay. He had seen them, and was now shouting to them to hurry. “He’d be better off if he kept quiet,” Joe said. “He’s only wasting his strength.” Evidently this thought occurred to the victim of the wreck, or else he was becoming weaker, for his cries died away and the boys did not hear him again. Frank thought he may have gone beneath the waves, and he cast a quick look around. But the fellow was still in view, clinging desperately to his bit of wreckage. The motorboat in the background was still blazing fiercely. Flames were shooting high in the air and the craft was plainly doomed. A great pillar of smoke was rolling into the sky from the burning boat. As for the other motorboat, Frank could hear the roar of its exhaust as it continued its flight out into the bay. For a while he could see its dim shape, when he turned around once in a while, but then the fleeing boat disappeared into the mist and the gloom. The boys exerted all their strength and the little rowboat fairly leaped over the waves. Both were good oarsmen and it was not long before they had drawn close to the man in the water. But it looked as though they would be too late. When they were only a few yards away Frank looked around, to shout encouragement to the victim of the wreck. Even as he looked, he saw the man wearily give up his grasp on the piece of wreckage to which he had been clinging. Frank had a glimpse of the white face and the despairing eyes and then the man sank slowly beneath the waves.