Merriwell was palpably losing ground. Bart heard him call again and
again, with the same result, and then Bart also lifted his voice.
The result was the same. The sloop moved straight on. At last he saw
Merriwell turn about and swim again toward the raft, when it became
evident that he could not overtake the sloop.
"That is enough to kill Merry!" he thought sympathizingly. "And Inza saw
us, too! I wonder what she thinks?"
Slowly and with seeming weariness Merriwell came back toward the raft.
Bart lifted himself as high as he could to mark the spot where the raft
lay tossing. When lifted on the crest of a wave, Merriwell came plainly
in sight; but when either Frank or the raft slipped down the glassy
surface of those big, green rollers, he seemed to sink into the sea.
"I'm afraid he is going to have a hard pull! He must be tired out."
He shook his fist at the sloop. It was growing smaller and smaller. A
haze was again creeping over the sea.
"My God! What if the fog should settle down again and keep Merry from
finding the raft?"
Bart shuddered at the thought. But Merriwell was so strong a swimmer
that Bart's hopes rose again almost immediately. There were indications
that the fog was once more descending, but Merriwell was now swimming
straight toward the raft with a bold, firm stroke, and with considerable
speed.
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