into the meadow, while Teddy,
having picketed his mule, stepped into a neat wherry tied to the bank.
He was not unconscious that he was disobeying orders, for his mother had
told him the result of her interview with the commanding officer; but
the order was not officially published, and he wanted to have one last
pull on the river.

It was in July, the season of freshets in streams having their sources
in the Rocky Mountains, when the warmer the weather the faster the snows
melt and the deeper and more rapid the stream. The silt-laden current
swept swiftly down the middle stream, swelling into rolling waves, which
caught the soldier boy's oars as the boat rose on their crests and sank
in their troughs.

Reaching the other side, he carried the mail-pouch to the overland stage
station, and returned to the boat. Repeating the precaution of rowing up
stream before venturing to cross, he arrived at the tents just as Reddy
returned from an unsuccessful search for the corporal.

The Adjutant's letter was left in the tent, Bronc picketed, and the boys
drew lots for the oars. Teddy won the choice, and selected the bow. The
contest was to maintain an even-time stroke, and see which could turn
the boat toward his opponent--"pull him round," as the phrase is.

Barefooted, barelegged, bareheaded, and coatless, the boys stepped into
the boat. Confident in their united strength, they did not row up the
eddy, but pulled directly from the shore, beginning the struggle from
the start. The wherry leaped ahead, refusing to turn to the right or
left. The boys were evidently as well matched as their mounts, Puss and
Bronc.

The boat rose and fell in the current waves, and the oars tripped and
splashed in the roily crests, until there suddenly came a sharp snap,
and Teddy fell backward, holding aloft the bladeless half of an oar.
Reddy ceased rowing; the skiff lost headway and floated down the river.

In the confusion of the accident neither boy saw a threatening danger.
In the middle of the river was the trunk of a dead cottonwood, standing
at an angle of forty-five degrees, its roots firmly anchored to the
bottom. The boat floated against the snag, striking amidships. Its
starboard side rose, its port side lowered, the water poured over the
gunwale, and in an instant Teddy was clinging to the trunk, and Reddy
swimming in the boiling current. The boat hung for a moment, as if
undecided whether to drop to the right or left of the snag,