slipped to the ground.

Running open the noose of the lariat, she dropped it surely over his
shoulders. The other end of the rope was fastened to the saddle-horn,
and the cow-pony, used to roping and throwing steers, braced itself with
wide-planted front feet for the shock.

"Can you get your arm through the loop?" cried the girl.

His arms were like lead, and almost powerless. With one hand he knew he
could not hang on. Nor did he try longer than for that one desperate
instant when he shot his fist through the loop. The wall of water swept
him away, but the taut rope swung him shoreward.

Little hands caught hold of him and fought with the strong current for
the body of the almost unconscious man; fought steadily and strongly,
for there was strength in the small wrists and compact muscle in the
shapely arms. She was waist deep in the water before she won, for from
above she could find no purchase for the lift.

The fisherman's opening eyes looked into dark anxious ones that gazed at
him from beneath the longest lashes he had ever seen. He had an odd
sense of being tangled up in them and being unable to escape, of being
both abashed and happy in his imprisonment. What he thought was: "They
don't have eyes like those out of heaven." What he said was entirely
different.

"Near thing. Hadn't been for you I wouldn't have made it."

At his words she rose from her knees to her full height, and he saw that