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By Sheer Pluck, a Tale of the Ashanti War by G. A. (George Alfred) Henty
page 50 of 326 (15%)
take him round the point, drifted quietly.

"I owe my life to you, Frank. I shall never forget it, old fellow."

"It's been a close thing," Frank answered; "but you owe your life
as much to your own coolness as to me, and above all, Ruthven,
don't let us forget that we both owe our lives to God."

"I sha'n't forget it," Ruthven said quietly, and they stood for a
few minutes without speaking. "Now, what had we better do? Shall
we start to run home?"

"I can't," Frank laughed, for he had nothing on but his trousers.
These he had slipped on after the return from his first trip,
pushing the rest of his things into a crevice in the rocks as high
up as he could reach.

"You had better take off your things, Ruthven, and lay them out
to dry in the sun. The boat will be here in half an hour. I wonder
how Childers is getting on!"

"I think he will be safe," Ruthven said. "The tide will not rise
high enough for there to be much danger of his being washed off."

"I don't think so either," Frank agreed, "or I would try and swim
back again; but I really don't think I could get round the point
against the tide again."

In half an hour a boat rowing four oars was seen approaching.

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