knew that he could swim, but swimming would be of small help in that rushing, roaring torrent, with its sharp rocks and snags of fallen trees. Should his head strike on one of the rocks they felt that all would be over.
The banks of the stream were several feet high, of broken stones and black dirt, and to get down to the water's edge was not easy.
Yet Bob was undaunted and leaped straight down, at the risk of a broken or twisted ankle. Danny must be rescued at any cost.
"Danny! Where are you?"
One and another uttered the cry, but no answer came back. The truth was, that the Irish lad had been carried so far under that his head had struck, and now he was more than half unconscious and unable to do more than gasp for breath, and that meant to merely take in water.
"There he is!"
It was Don who uttered the cry. He pointed to the center of the stream, where a fallen tree projected several feet over the surface.
The Irish boy was struggling between the half decayed branches, but was too weak to clear himself.
"He's going to drown as sure as fate!" muttered old Jacob. "Perhaps I had better go in fer him!"
"No, no; I'll go in!" cried Bob, and slipped
