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 speechless, as the arrow-like figure dove straight for the little line of bubbles that drifted out from under the lower end of the raft.

A moment later a hand appeared above the water, then a sandy head, then a face. It took one short breath, and with an adroit kick of the heels went down again. He had missed her.

The group on the bank gasped. After all, it would be too late. The seconds sped away; he had not found her.

Then a sudden sign of commotion disturbed the surface of the quiet river. Hands appeared, and two heads, scratching and clutching and fighting hands, and two threshing bodies, strangely tangled together.

"By gad, he 's got her!" shrilled the old Captain. The sound of a woman's hysterical wailing rose through the quiet orchard, weirdly, uncannily.

Inch by inch the boy was fighting his way toward the bank, all the while striving to keep that rolling head with the streaming and matted hair above the surface of the water.

"Git a barrel!" he panted, as his knee struck the oozy bottom.