"That's a man's voice, and he's right near to us," declared Hiram,
leaning forward and peering through the mist. "Hey, there!"

"I see you. Good!"

There was a tilt of the machine. The person in the water had seized
one of the wing stays.

"Careful, there," ordered Dave. "Don't cling to that wing or bear
it down."

"I can't hold out."

Dave cautiously edged from his seat towards a form now plainly
visible. It was that of a man about thirty years of age.

It was no easy task to take the man aboard. One of his hands was
useless. He seemed in pain and half choked with water he had
swallowed.

Hiram gave up his seat to the rescued man, who sank back as if
overcome with faintness and exhaustion. Hiram himself found a
resting place on the platform supporting the two seats.

"Is there anybody else in trouble?" Dave asked of their passenger.

"No, no," replied the man. "The launch is gone up. Get me to land
quick as you can. I'm afraid my arm is broken. It pains me
terribly. I must get to a surgeon soon as possible."