the rope around his waist. In a second more he had entered the water, which at this point boiled in a milky-white foam.
At the shore it was not over three feet deep, yet he found that it was all he could do to keep his feet. The bottom was of rock, worn smooth by constant rubbing. Out and out he went, foot by foot, until half the distance to the fallen tree was covered.
He was now up to his armpits, and could no longer keep his footing. With a dash he set out to swim the remainder of the distance.
Never had brave Bob undertaken a more difficult task. As though he were a feather, the force of the current carried him downward until he was almost past the extreme end of the half-sunken tree.
A wild splash and one hand caught the last branch. At first it looked as if he would be torn loose. But he held on like grim death, and slowly, but surely, pulled himself closer to where Danny rested.
"Oh, Bob, save me; please do!"
The Irish boy's words were scarcely intelligible. He had raised himself up so that his head was clear, but could do no more, and was in immediate danger of sinking back again.
"I'll save you, Danny; keep your courage," was Bob's reply, and coming closer, the youth
