It's our only chance."

"What are you going to do?" asked Montagu, terrified. "Why, Eric, it's
death to attempt swimming that. Heavens!" And he drew Eric back hastily,
as another vast swell of water came rolling along, shaking its white
curled mane, like a sea-monster bent on destruction.

"Monty, it's no use," said Eric hastily, tearing off his jacket and
waistcoat; "I'm not going to let Russell die on that ledge of rock. I
shall try to reach him, whatever happens to me. Here; I want to keep
these things dry. Be on the look out; if I get across, fling them over
to me if you can, and then do as I told you."

He turned round; the wave had just spent its fury, and knowing that his
only chance was to swim over before another came, he plunged in, and
struck out like a man. He was a strong and expert swimmer, and as yet
the channel was not more than a dozen yards across. He dashed over with
the speed and strength of despair, and had just time to clutch the rocks
on the other side before the next mighty swirl of the tide swept up in
its white and tormented course. In another minute he was on the ledge by
Russell's side.

He took him tenderly in his arms, and called to Montagu for the dry
clothes. Montagu tied them skilfully with his neck-handkerchief round a
fragment of rock, adding his own jacket to the bundle, and then flung it
over. Eric wrapped up his friend in the clothes, and once more shouted
to Montagu to go on his errand. For a short time the boy lingered,
reluctant to leave them, and then started off at the run. Looking back
after a few minutes, he caught, through the gathering dusk, his last
glimpse of the friends in their perilous situation. Eric was seated