paper clinched like a club in his hand. He was going to get out
of that boathouse if he had to butt a hole through its boards with his
head.

Once more he climbed to the window and made an attempt to squeeze
through. It was futile, of course, but this time it seemed to him that
the sill and the plank to which it was attached gave a little. He put
the paper between his teeth, seized the sill with both hands, braced
his feet against a beam below, and jerked with all his strength.
Once--twice--three times! It was giving! It was pulling loose! He landed
on his back upon the nets, sill and a foot of boarding in his hands.
In exactly five seconds, the folded newspaper jammed in his trousers
pocket, he swung through the opening and dropped to the narrow space
between the building and the end of the wharf.

The space was a bare six inches wide. As he struck, his ankle turned
under him, he staggered, tried wildly to regain his balance, and fell.
As he fell he caught a glimpse of a blue-clad figure at the top of the
bluff before the bungalow. Then he went under with a splash, and the
eager tide had him in its grasp.

When he came to the surface and shook the water from his eyes, he was
already some distance from the wharf. This, an indication of the force
of the tide, should have caused him to realize his danger instantly. But
it did not. His mind was intent upon the accomplishment of one thing,
namely, the proving to Ruth Graham, by means of the item in the paper,
that he was no longer under any possible obligation to the Davidson
girl. Therefore, his sole feeling, as he came sputtering to the top of
the water, was disgust at his own clumsiness. It was when he tried to
turn and swim back to the wharf that he grasped the situation as it was.
He could not swim against that tide.

There was no time to consider what was best to do. The breakers were
only five hundred yards off, and if he wished to live he must keep
out of their clutches. He began to swim diagonally across the current,
putting all his strength into each stroke. But for every foot of
progress toward the calmer water he was borne a yard toward the
breakers.

The tide bubbled and gurgled about him. Miniature whirlpools tugged
at his legs, pulling him under. He fought nobly, setting his teeth and
swearing inwardly that he would make it, he would not give up, he would
not drown. But the edge of the tide rip was a long way off, and he was
growing tired already. Anot