before the half-hundred was reached the
dippings of the blades grew slower and slower. Then they became
irregular, while, to add to the horror of the position, the man in
pursuit seemed to have been keeping a reserve of strength ready for such
an emergency, and he now came on rapidly.

Bob would have proposed putting ashore once more, but, in avoiding the
various crafts, they had now contrived to be about midstream, and in his
horror and dread of the coming enemy all thought of scheming seemed to
have been driven out of his head.

He uttered a despairing yell, and began to tug at his oar once more;
Dexter followed his example, and the distance again increased.

But only for a few minutes, then they seemed to be growing weaker, their
arms became like lead; their eyes grew dim, and the end was very near.

"Ah, I've got yer at last, have I?" shouted the man, who was not forty
yards away now.

"Not yet," muttered Dexter. "Pull, Bob, pull!"

Bob responded by going through the motion of rowing, but his scull did
not dip into the water, and, meeting with no resistance, he went
backwards off the seat, with his heels in the air.

Dexter jumped up, seized his companion's scull, and, weary as he was,
with all the stubborn English pluck which never knows when it is beaten,
he reseated himself, shipped his scull, and bent forward to try,
inexperienced as he was, to make another effort for escape.

As he seated himself, breathless and panting hard, he gave one glance at
his enemy, then another over his shoulder at a boat on ahead, which it
would be his duty to avoid, for it seemed to be going right across his
track.

Then he began to row, putting the little strength he had left into his
last strokes.

"Ah, it's no good," cried the man triumphantly. "I've got yer at last."

"How--ow!" yelled Bob, with a cry like a Newfoundland dog shut out on a
cold night.

"Drop that there rowing, or I'll--"

Dexter heard no more. He was pulling frantically, but making hardly any
way. Then he heard voices ahead, glanced round with his sculls raised,
and found that he was running right toward the craft just ahead.

Another moment and there was a bump.

The man had driven his little tub right into the stern of the gig, and
as he laid hold he snarled out--

"I knew I should ketch yer."

"How--ow!" yelled Bob again, from where he lay on his back in the bottom
of the boat, his legs still over the seat.

_Bump_!

There was ano