way with as much commotion in the water as was caused by the
man's dive; but when he rose to the surface, yards away, shook his head,
and glanced back over his left shoulder, it was to see Nic's head rise a
short distance behind him, for the younger man had followed on the
instant.

Pete ceased swimming, to allow his companion to come abreast.

"Oh, Master Nic!" he cried, "you zhouldn't ha' done that;" and he
glanced wildly about him as if expecting to see the rugged head of an
alligator rise close by. "Go back, lad; go back. It's on'y one man's
work."

"Go back? No," said Nic firmly. "We must fight it out, shoulders
together, Pete. Come on."

Pete gave vent to something like a sob, and his face grew wrinkled; but
the next moment he forced a smile.

"Well, you're master," he said cheerily; "zo now for it, zir. You zwim
lighter than I do, but I'll race you down to the boat. Virst to lay a
hand on gunwale wins."

"Come on," said Nic, fighting hard to master the horrible feeling that
at any moment they might be attacked from beneath by one or other of the
fierce creatures which inhabited the stream--Nic's dread being mostly
respecting the shark-like gar-fish, which he knew must be abundant.

Pete shared his dread, but they both kept their thoughts to themselves
as they swam on with strong, steady strokes, their light clothing of
shirt and short drawers impeding them but slightly. Life from childhood
on the seashore had conduced to making them expert swimmers; the swift
stream helped them famously; and, keeping well away towards the middle
to avoid the eddies near the shore, they went on steadily after the
boat.

But this, in its light state, was being swept rapidly on, and had so
good a start that for some time the swimmers did not seem to gain upon
it in the least, and at last, as the distance still remained about the
same, a feeling of despair began to attack them.

Pete saw the change in his fellow-swimmer's countenance.

"Take it easy, Master Nic. Long ztroke and zlow. We could keep this up
all day. On'y got to zwim steady: river does all the work."

"We must swim faster, Pete, or we shall never reach the boat," cried
Nic.

"Nay, lad; if we zwim hard we shall get tired out, and lose ground then.
Easy as you can. She may get closer in and be caught by zome of the
branches."

Nic said no more, but swam on, keeping his straining eyes fixed upon the
ever-distant boat, till at last hope began to