erform.
Several times he succeeded in drawing himself up a foot or so, and then
would come a fatal slip that knocked his plans "galley-west," as Phil
would have said.

And at such times Larry was bound to go souse into the stream again,
grunting; calling out in half muffled tones; and spouting forth quite a
cascade of water that had been taken into his open mouth.

Undoubtedly, had Larry's rescue depended upon himself alone he might
have fared badly. He did not seem able to make any headway against the
bad run of luck that kept tumbling him back after every effort to rise.
And that mossback 'gator, as Tony always called an old fellow, was
certainly worked up into a rage which might result in his attacking the
struggling boy, despite all his wild floundering and splashing.

Phil of course suddenly remembered that he had it in his power to
assist Larry.

His gun!

If only he could manage to hasten to where it had last been seen, he
might yet fire a charge, or several for that matter, full into the eyes
of the reptile; and at such a short distance it must surely bring the
attack to an end.

While it takes quite some time to narrate these things, in reality it
all happened within a few seconds, to tell the truth. Usually Phil was
exceedingly active in mind, but somehow the affair seemed to have
dazzled him just a trifle, so that he found himself unable to decide
just where he had last set eyes on the faithful repeating shotgun.

Larry had even made his second furious attempt to climb up the rope,
and fallen back again, when Phil discovered the barrel of the gun
sticking out from under a bunch of blankets which his chum had tossed
aside in trying to get at his fishing tackle.

Just as Phil was in the act of making a dash for the weapon something
flashed by him. It was Tony, the swamp boy; and over his shoulder as
he leaped he sent back the words:

"I get him, you watch!"

Nevertheless Phil, being accustomed to depending on himself, did not
halt in his dash for the gun. No matter how good the intentions of
Tony might be there was always more or less danger that a slip could
occur; and in case such a calamity did come about, he, Phil, wanted to
be in a position to lend a helping hand.

The dangling rope was in reality the loose end of the painter which
Larry had fastened to the trunk of the twisted live oak tree growing
near the edge of the bank. As the water was quite deep right up
alongside the shore Larr