kind of pound, made of nets hung on ropes between poles.

"'Help!' yells Allie, clawing the nets. 'I can't swim in rough water!'

"You might have known he couldn't. It looked sort of dubious for a
jiffy. Then I had an idee. I dragged him to the nighest weir-pole.
'Climb!' I hollers in his ear. 'Climb that pole.'

"He done it, somehow, digging his toes into the net and going up like a
cat up a tree. When he got to the top he hung acrost the rope and shook.

"'Hang on there!' says I. 'I'm going after the boat.' And I struck out.
He yelled to me not to leave him, but the weir had give me my bearings,
and I was bound for my power-boat. 'Twas a tough swim, but I made it,
and climbed aboard, not feeling any too happy. Losing a good skiff was
more'n I'd figgered on.

"Soon's I got some breath I hauled anchor, started up my engine and
headed back for the weir. I run along-side of it, keeping a good lookout
for guy-ropes, and when I got abreast of that particular pole I looked
for Allie. He was setting on the rope, a-straddle of the pole, and
hanging onto the top of it like it owed him money. He looked a good deal
more comfortable than I was when he and Prince had treed me. And the
remembrance of that time come back to me, and one of them things they
call inspiration come with it. He was four feet above water, 'twas full
tide then, and if he set still he was safe as a church.

"So instead of running in after him, I slowed 'way down and backed off.

"'Come here!' he yells. 'Come here, you fool, and take me aboard.'