A precious minute was lost before Alan discovered their two heads. Then he ran toward them as he had never run before, and as he came whipped out a jackknife and freed its blade.
Even so—since it was, of course, Rose who was first freed—Barcus was half-drowned before Alan helped him in turn up to the beach.
And as this happened the last blood-red rim of the sun was washed under by the waves.
Two minutes later the lifeboat was afloat, and Mr. Barcus, already recovered, was labouring with the flywheel of the motor, stimulated by the sight of a party, led by Judith, racing down the beach.
But it was not until well out from shore that any one of them found time for speech. Then Mr. Barcus straightened up from his assiduous attentions to the motor, and inquired:
"Would you mind, Mr. Law, telling how you got out of that hut?"
"Jumped," Alan responded tersely, "from the window. There was no other way."
"You bear a charmed life," was the only comment. "If ever I get out of this affair I'm going to have a try at your life, myself, just once, for luck!"
