"The tree hit you, Tom. But do keep quiet, and I'll take care of
you,"

"I can't swim -- I feel like a wet rag through and through."

"Never mind about swimming. Only don't catch me by the throat
again, and we'll be all right," was Dick's reassuring reply, and
as his brother became more passive he struck out for the bank upon
which the thief had landed.

The current carried them on and on, but not so swiftly as it was
carrying the tree. Soon they were approaching the bend. Dick was
swimming manfully, but was
now all but exhausted.

"You can't make it, Dick," groaned Tom. "Better save yourself."

"And let you go? No indeed, Tom. I have a little strength left
and -- Hurrah, I've struck bottom!"

Dick was right: his feet had landed on a sandbar; and, standing
up, both boys found the water only to their armpits. Under such
circumstances they waded ashore with case, and here threw
themselves down to rest.

"That thief is gone," said Dick dismally.

"And my watch too!"

"But where is Sam?" questioned Tom, then looked at his brother