But they knew how to get rid of their gas masks, and as their steel helmets had fallen off during the attack, and as they had no weapons, they were not as heavily burdened as a soldier on the battle front would have been. So they managed to get to the surface and strike out, though they did not know in which direction to swim, save toward the nearest shore. But to reach that was a task more easily thought of than carried out. The current was swift, and they could make little progress against it. "Don't try to breast it!" cried Jimmy to Roger. "Let yourself float down, and work your way over to the nearest bank." "All right! How are you?" "Pretty rotten. I got a bad jolt on the head, but the water makes it feel better," said Jimmy. "What happened to us, anyhow?" asked Roger, as he managed to get to his companion's side. "All I remember is being struck down. Did the Germans make a counter-attack?" "It wasn't the Germans," declared Jimmy. "It was those two Bixton fellows from the signal corps. They attacked us!" "What for?" cried Roger. "Are they German spies?" "Well, they're as bad as that, if not worse," declared Jimmy. "They're traitors, I believe. They must have attacked us, as they threatened to do, because they found out that we, in a way, were responsible for Mike Bixton's being sent to jail. They threatened to do us up, and they did it." "They surely did!" assented Roger. "Why, they might have killed us." "They tried to, hard enough," declared Jimmy. "Do you really think so?" cried his companion. "I'm sure of it! Why, they struck hard enough to kill. Only that we had on our tin hats, they'd have ended us. And then dumping us into this river--that was to be the end, they thought." "And I'm not sure but what it will be yet," said Roger, as his swimming strokes seemed to lose power. "What's the matter?" asked Jimmy anxiously. "Can't you keep it up?" "Not much longer. I'm about all in. My head feels queer!" Jimmy looked about him. They were in the midst of swirling waters that rushed in and out among the rocks. The two lads had a hard struggle not to be dashed against these. "Do you see that flat rock over there?" cried Jimmy to his chum, pointing to one about a hundred feet down stream and nearer to the western bank than the boys then were. "Yes, I see it," was the answer. "Do you think you can reach it?" "Maybe. But why?" "Because it's a flat rock, and it stands well up out of the water. If we climb out on it we can take a rest and catch our breath. Then, maybe, we can get across to the shore." "Go ahead!" said Roger desperately. "I'll follow you." They had momentarily caught hold of a small projecting rock in the stream, but it was not large enough to afford a foothold. Jimmy now let go of this and struck out for the flat rock of which he had spoken. Roger followed as best he could.