ott asked.

Drummond looked at him with surprise. "I knew my skin would shine in the
water."

"Yes, of course," said Scott. "Well, it was a risky swim. If you had
been washed into the main stream you'd have gone much farther than you
meant. Did you get near Driscoll?"

"Sure I did. An eddy swung me out and I reckoned I was going down the
main rush, but I caught the back-swirl and after that kept very close
along the bank. Got a knock from a boulder, but, just paddling enough
to keep on top, I drifted down to where Steve stood. He was on a ledge
now, and I could hardly see him against the pines, but his head was
bent, as if he was looking into the water. Then I allowed I'd been a
fool. I couldn't stop unless I crawled out almost at his feet; you can't
swim against that stream. Steve doesn't like me and there were some
hefty rocks around."

Drummond paused, and Thirlwell imagined the lad had run some risk. A
blow from a heavy stone would have stopped his swimming, without leaving
a tell-tale mark, since his body would bear many bruises when the rapid
threw it out among the eddies in the tail-pool. Thirlwell could picture
the scene--the dark pines standing against the pale sky, and the dim
reflection from the river; the unsuspecting man bending over the ledge;
and the lad drifting noiselessly down stream, with only his head above
water and his rather long hair streaking his dark face.

"Well," continued Drummond, "you see how I was fixed! I couldn't pull
out from the bank because the slack was narrow, and, if I kept on, I
must pass Steve very close. I surely didn't like it, but saw what I'd
better do. He was facing down stream, turned half away from me, and I
reckoned the water was about four feet deep. I'd grab his foot and pull
him in. Then I'd get away while he was floundering about, while if he
was too quick and gripped me, we'd be equal in the water and he'd have
no rocks to throw.

"I drifted on until I could reach him and seized his foot, but the rest
didn't work out as I thought. Steve didn't slip into the water; he kept
on his feet and screamed."

"I suppose you mean he shouted," Thirlwell suggested.

"No, sir--I mean _screamed_; like a jack-rabbit in a trap. The ledge
slanted awkwardly; he couldn't turn to see what had got hold of him, and
had hard work to keep his balance when an eddy swung me off the bank. I
saw him stiffen as he braced himself, and guess he felt my grip get
tighter through his boot,