shoulder he could see the jam and he could feel the suck of the water on
his legs.

"Oh, Ranald, you can't do it," sobbed Hughie. "Will I paddle
underneath?"

"Yes, yes, paddle hard, Hughie," said Ranald, for the jam was just at
his back.

But as he spoke, there was a cry, "Ranald, catch it!" Over the slippery
logs of the jam came Tom Finch pushing out a plank.

"Catch it!" he cried, "I'll hold this end solid." And Ranald caught and
held fast, and the boys on the bank gave a mighty shout. Soon Don
came up with his board, and Tom, catching the end, hauled it up on the
rolling logs.

"Hold steady there now!" cried Tom, lying at full length upon the logs;
"we'll get you in a minute."

By this time the other boys had pulled a number of boards and planks out
of the jam, and laying them across the logs, made a kind of raft upon
which the exhausted swimmers were gradually hauled, and then brought
safe to shore.

"Oh, Ranald," said Tom, almost weeping, "I didn't mean to--I never
thought--I'm awfully sorry."

"Oh, pshaw!" said Ranald, who was taking off Hughie's shirt preparatory
to wringing it, "I know. Besides, it was you who pulled us out. You were