I thought it was a crocodile, and in my confusion the pistol dropped from my mouth and disappeared.
I waded a few steps and then plunged into deep water again.

Almost before I knew, I was among the bulrushes, with my feet in the slime of the bank.

With feverish haste I scrambled through the reeds and up through roots and undergrowth to the hard soil.

I was across, but, alas, I had lost my only weapon.
The swim and the anxiety had tired me considerably, and though it meant delay, I did not dare to continue with the weight of water-logged clothes to impede me.

I found a dry sheltered place in the bush and stripped to the skin.