A hail that stirs the blood in their veins until it runs like molten lava--a hail that tells of danger.
"Ho! there, this way, quick! We're sinking! sprung aleak!" Such is the cry that comes to them.
All are at once alarmed.

The boatman is pulling well, but, to John's excited fancy, it seems as though they hardly move.
He springs up, and takes one of the oars.
"Professor, mind the helm!" he cries.
"Ay, ay!" sings out that worthy, adapting himself immediately to the situation.
The young American is hardly an athlete, although he belongs to one of Chicago's best boat clubs.
He has an incentive now which causes him to strain every muscle, and under the united strength of two men the boat dances over the billows in the quarter whence the cry of help was heard.
It nevertheless takes them nearly five minutes to reach the scene, and this is the longest five minutes John ever knew.
Only the voice of the boatman is heard, still calling, and by this they know that the climax has already come.
A dreadful fear almost palsies John's heart as they reach the scene.
The boatman is discovered, clinging to the oars, and showing some evidence of alarm.

Perhaps he has had more than he bargained for.
John helps him in.
"Where are the others ?" he cries, hoarsely.
"I am afraid, lost." "Just Heaven! What has happened ?" "Boat sprung leak--go down fast.

Soldier say he save lady, but struck his head on boat and lose senses.

I saw them no more." It is horrible! "Did the boat sink ?" asks John, huskily.
"I do not know." "Would it sink under such circumstances ?" he asks their own boatman, who also has the appearance of being rattled.