ithout loss of time, and the boats were apart with Winthrop's
readiness to pull.

"Now row! Row for her life to yonder shore! Bow well up! Away, or the
Falls will have her!" shouted Bedell.

"But you!" cried Winthrop, bending for his stroke. Yet he did not
comprehend Bedell's meaning. Till the last the old man had spoken
without strong excitement. Dread of the river was not on George; his
bliss was supreme in his thought, and he took the Squire's order for
one of exaggerated alarm.

"Row, I say, with all your strength!" cried Bedell, with a flash of
anger that sent the young fellow away instantly. "Row! Concern
yourself not for me. I am going home. Row! for her life, Winthrop! God
will deliver you yet. Good-bye, children. Remember always my blessing
is freely given you."

"God bless and keep you forever, father!" cried Ruth, from the
distance, as her lover pulled away.

They landed, conscious of having passed a swift current, indeed, but
quite unthinking of the price paid for their safety. Looking back on
the darkling river, they saw nothing of the old man.

"Poor father!" sighed Ruth, "how kind he was! I'm sore-hearted for
thinking of him at home, so lonely."

Left alone in the clumsy boat, Bedell stretched with the long, heavy
oars for his own shore, making appearance of strong exertion. But when
he no longer feared that his children might turn back with sudden
understanding, and vainly, to his aid, he dragged the boat slowly,
watching her swift drift down--down toward the towering mist. Then as
he gazed at the cloud, rising in two distinct volumes, came a thought
spurring the Loyalist spirit in an instant. He was not yet out of
American water! Thereafter he pulled steadily, powerfully, noting
landmarks anxiously, studying currents, considering always their trend
to or from his own shore. Half an hour had gone when he again dropped
into slower motion. Then he could see Goat Island's upper end between
him and the mist of the American Fall.

Now the old man gave himself up to intense curiosity, looking over
into the water with fascinated inquiry. He had never been so far down
the river. Darting beside their shadows, deep in the clear flood, were
now larger fishes than he had ever taken, and all moved up as if
hurrying to escape. How fast the long trailing, swaying, single weeds,
and the crevices in flat rock whence they so strangely grew, went up
stream and away as if drawn backward. The sameness of the bottom