The compass and the flashlight, which indeed were more susceptible of damage from the water than the precious glass, were encased in the other rubber glove, and the two fugitives waded out into the black, silent river. Scarcely had their feet left the bottom when the first drop of rain fell upon Tom's head, and a chill gust of wind caught him and bore him a yard or two out of his course. He spluttered and looked about for Archer, but could see nothing in the darkness. He did not want to call for he knew how far voices carry across the water, and though the spot was isolated he would take no chances. It rained hard and the wind, rising to a gale, lashed the black water into whitecaps. Tom strove vainly to make headway against the storm, but felt himself carried, willy-nilly, he knew not where. He tried to distinguish the light beyond the Baden shore, which he had selected for a beacon, but he could not find it. At last he called to Archer. "I'm going to turn back," he said; "come on--are you all right?" If Archer answered his voice was drowned by the wind and rain. For a few moments Tom struggled against the elements, hoping to regain the Alsatian shore. His one guiding instinct in all the hubbub was the conviction that the wind smelled like an east wind and that it ought to carry him back to the nearer shore. He would have given a good deal for a glimpse of his precious little compass now. "Where are you?" he called again. "The light's gone. Let the wind carry you back--it's east." He could hear no answer save the mocking wind and the breaking of the water. This latter sound made him think the shore was not far distant. But when, after a few moments, he did not feel the bottom, his heart sank. He had been lost in the woods and as a tenderfoot he had known the feeling of panic despair. And he had been in the ocean and seen his ship go down with a torpedo's jagged rent in her side. But he had never been lost in the water in the sense of losing all his bearings in the darkness. For a minute it quite unnerved him and his stout heart sank within him. Then out of the tumult came a thin, spent voice, barely audible and seeming a part of the troubled voices of the night. "----lost----," it said; "----going down----" Tom listened eagerly, his heart still, his blood cold within him. "Keep calling," he answered, "so I'll know where you are. I'll get to you all right--keep your nerve." He listened keenly, ready to challenge the force of the storm with all his young skill and strength, and thinking of naught else now. But no guiding voice answered. Could he have heard aright? Surely, there was no mistaking. It was a human voice that had spoken and whatever else it had said that one, tragic word had been clearly audible: "----down----" Archer had gone down. CHAPTER XIX TOM LOSES HIS FIRST CONFLICT WITH THE ENEMY "Down!"