and he narrowly escaped losing his
hold upon his throat. He kicked again. If he could only get one gulp of
air he could make it. In spite of the ever-increasing pressure on his
lungs he found himself getting sleepy. He was tired, worn out. If he
could only fill his lungs with something to stop that dull pain, he
could go to sleep and rest.

* * * * *

Dickie Lang saw the dark blot of the two figures as they neared the
surface. Then she thought of the rope in her hand. She could weigh it
with the wrench and throw it from where she stood. Uncoiling it hastily,
she measured the distance. Too far, she realized bitterly. She looked to
the water's edge. The distance would be shorter from there. Shoving the
wrench into her pocket and throwing the rope loosely about her neck, she
crawled over the ledge and climbed downward.

The ledge dipped sharply under the overhanging surface and extended
shoreward in a narrow shelf, carpeted by kelp and washed by the sea.
Around that big boulder would be the best place. From there she could
throw the rope to good advantage. She was about to shout encouragement
when she heard the sharp splash of a stone falling into the water from
the cliff. Shrinking closer to the rocks, she listened. Then crept
silently on.

* * * * *

Air to breathe at last! Gregory lay passive on the surface, content to
gulp it in in huge mouthfuls. Nothing else mattered now. His head
throbbed painfully and his eyeballs burned in their sockets. But he had
air. And that was enough. As the pressure of blood on his brain
lessened, he became conscious of the fact that he was still gripping the
islander's throat. He released his fingers and the big head tilted
forward until it rested face down on the water. With a start Gregory
realized that the air had come too late for Red-beard. He must get the
man ashore at once.

He turned his head slowly and saw the rock ledge only a few feet away.
By that big overhanging boulder would be the place to land. There he
could crawl up on the soft kelp and rest. Rolling the unconscious man to
his back, he swam slowly for the ledge.

* * * * *

Dickie reached the base of the projecting rock and wedging her slender
body into a small fissure, peered cautiously through the cleft. So close
that she could almost touch him, alert and motionless, stood the
weasel-faced man. His small eyes were fixe