ig disappearing leisurely in the eddying swirl.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"THEM AS IS BORN TO BE HANGED."

It might have been presumed that Bob Dimsted would either have tried to
render some assistance or else have raised an alarm.

Bob Dimsted did nothing of the kind.

For certain reasons of his own, and as one who had too frequently been
in the hot water of trouble, Master Bob thought only of himself, and
catching his line in his hand as he quickly drew it from the water, he
hastily gathered up his fishing paraphernalia, and ran off as hard as he
could go.

He had time, however, to see Dexter's wet head rise to the surface and
then go down again, for the unwilling bather had one leg hooked in the
bough, which took him down once more, as it yielded to the current, and
the consequence was that when Dexter rose, breathless and
half-strangled, he was fifty yards down the stream.

But he was now free, and giving his head a shake, he trod the water for
a few moments, and then struck out for the shore, swimming as easily as
a frog.

A few sturdy strokes took him out of the sharp current and into an eddy
near the bank, by whose help he soon reached the deep still water,
swimming so vigorously that before long he was abreast of the doctor's
garden, where a group beneath the trees startled him more than his
involuntary plunge.

For there, in a state of the greatest excitement, were the doctor and
Helen, with Peter Cribb, with a clothes-prop to be used for a different
purpose now.

Further behind was Dan'l Copestake, who came panting up with the longest
handled rake just as Dexter was nearing the bank.

"Will he be drowned?" whispered Helen, as she held tightly by her
father's arm.

"No; he swims like a water-rat," said the doctor.

"No, no," shouted Dexter, beginning to splash the water, and sheering
off as he saw Dan'l about to make a dab at him with the rake.

There was more zeal than discretion in the gardener's use of this
implement, for it splashed down into the water heavily, the teeth nearly
catching the boy's head.

"Here, catch hold of this," cried Peter Cribb.

"No, no; let me be," cried Dexter, declining the offer of the
clothes-prop, as he had avoided it before when he was on the top of the
wall. "I can swim ashore if you'll let me be."

This was so self-evident that the doctor checked Dan'l as he was about
to make another skull-fracturing dash with the rake; and the next minute
Dexter's hand cl