her weight had destroyed. In the edge of a quieter pool where the
water swirled but did not rush, her brown head appeared, and then
her white face, and with a last mighty effort she thrust up Peter
so that his dripping body was on the log. Sobbingly she filled her
lungs with air. But the drench of water and her hair blinded her
so that she could not see. And she found all at once that the
strength had gone from her body. Vainly she tried to drag herself
up beside Peter, and in the struggle she raised herself a little,
so that a low-hanging branch of a tree swept her like a mighty arm
from the log.

With a cry she reached out for Peter. But he was gone, the log was
gone, and she felt a vicious pulling at her hair, as Jed Hawkins
himself had often pulled it, and for a few moments the current
pounded against her body and the tree-limb swayed back and forth
as it held her there by her hair.

If there was pain from that tugging, Nada did not feel it. She
could see now, and thirty yards below her was a wide, quiet pool
into which the log was drifting. Peter was gone. And then,
suddenly, her heart seemed to stop its beating, and her eyes
widened, and in that moment of astounding miracle she forgot that
she was hanging by her hair in the ugly lip of the flood, with
slippery hands beating and pulling at her from below. For she saw
Peter--Peter in the edge of the pool--making his way toward the
shore! For a space she could not believe. It must be his dead body
drifting. It could not be Peter--swimming! And yet--his head was
above the water--he was moving shoreward--he was struggling--

Frantically she tore at the detaining clutch above her. Something