The steamer glided by, and the next moment Jack was nearly opposite to
the canoe. What happened then was swift and unexpected. Above the splash
of the revolving paddles he heard hoarse shouts and warning cries. He
saw green waves approaching, flung up in the wake of the passing vessel.
As he dropped the oars and leapt anxiously to his feet the frail canoe,
unfitted to encounter such a peril, was clutched and lifted broadside by
the foaming swell. Over it went instantly, and there was a flash of red
and blue as the girl was flung headfirst into the river.

As quickly Jack clasped his hands and dived from his boat. He came to
the top and swam forward with desperate strokes. He saw the upturned
canoe, the floating paddle, the half-submerged Tam-o'-Shanter. Then a
mass of dripping golden hair cleft the surface, only to sink at once.

But Jack had marked the spot, and, taking a full breath, he dived. To
the onlookers the interval seemed painfully long, and a hundred cheering
voices rent the air as the young artist rose to view, keeping himself
afloat with one arm, while the other supported the girl. She was
conscious, but badly scared and disposed to struggle.

"Be quite still," Jack said, sharply. "You are in no danger--I will save
you if you trust me."

The girl obeyed, looking into Jack's eyes with a calmer expression. The
steamer had stopped, and half a dozen row-boats were approaching from
different directions. A grizzled waterman and his companion picked up
the two and pulled them across to Strand-on-the-Green. Others followed
towing Jack's boat and the canoe, and the big steamer proceeded on her
way to Kew Pier.