Luckily the line was just where the farmer supposed it would be,
and away went man and boy, Dick leading, until the river bank was
again reached.

"There he is, Mr. Darrel. How can we best help him, do you
think?"

The farmer scratched his head in perplexity.

"Hang me if I jess know, Dick," he said slowly.

"If we try to pull him straight to shore the current will carry
him over the rocks in spite of the line."

"How long do you suppose the line is?"

"It is fifty yards, and all good and strong, for I bought it of
Woddie only last week."

"Fifty yards -- that is a hundred and fifty feet. Do you see that
spur of rock just above there?"

"I do."

"Is it more than a hundred and fifty feet from that rock to the
tree?"

"Hardly; but it's close figuring."