Joe was swimming out with all his power, Blake was nowhere to be seen, and the alligator was in plain sight, heading for the spot where Blake had last been observed.

“It’s my only chance!” muttered Ramo.  “I hope the boy stays under water.”

As he spoke the guide raised the rifle, took quick but careful aim, and fired.  There was no puff of smoke, for the new high-powered, smokeless powder was used.  Following the shot, there was a commotion in the water.  Amid a smother of foam, bright red showed.

“You hit him, Ramo!” cried the Spaniard.  “You hit him!”

“I guess I did,” the Indian answered.  “But where is Blake?”

That was what Joe was asking himself as he plunged on through the stream, using the Australian crawl stroke, which takes one through the water at such speed.  Just what Joe could do when he reached his chum he did not stop to think.  Certainly the two would have been no match for the big alligator.

But the monster had met his match in the steel-jacketed mushrooming bullet.  It had struck true and after a death struggle the horrid creature sank beneath the surface just as Blake shot up, having stayed under as long as he could.

“All right, Blake!  Here you are!  I’m with you!” cried Joe, changing his course to bring himself to his chum.  “Are you all right?”

“Yes, except for this cramp.  The alligator didn’t get near enough to do any damage.  But where is he?”

“Ramo shot him,” answered Joe, for he had seen the creature sink to its death.  “You’re all right now.  Put your hand on my shoulder, and I’ll tow you in.”

“Guess you’ll have to.  I can’t seem to swim.  I dived down when I saw how near the beast was getting, thinking I might fool him.  I hated to come up, but I had to,” Blake panted.

“Well, you’re all right now,” Joe assured him, “but it was a close call.  How did it happen?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Blake, still out of breath from trying to swim under water.  “If I’d known there were alligators in this river I’d never have gone so far from shore.”

“That’s right,” agreed Joe, looking around as though to make sure no more of the creatures were in sight.

He saw none.  On the shore stood Ramo, the guide, with ready rifle.

“Feel better now?” asked Joe.

“Yes, the cramp seems to be leaving me.  I think I went in swimming too soon after eating those plantains,” for they had been given some of the yellow bananas by a native when they stopped at his hut for some water.  “They upset me,” Blake explained.  “I was swimming about, waiting for you to come back and join me, when I saw what I thought was a log in the water.  When it headed for me I thought it was funny, and then, when I saw what it was, I realized I’d better be getting back to shore.  I tried, but was taken with a fierce cramp.  You heard me just in time.”

“Yes,” responded Joe, as he and Blake reached water shallow enough to wade in, “but if it hadn’t been for Ramo’s gun—­well, there might be a different story to tell.”