to leap from stone to
stone and finally plunge in, trying almost vainly to swim, for the
foaming water gave but the poorest support. There were stones, too,
everywhere, hewn blocks and others that had been torn from their native
beds; but somehow, helped by the stream, Will reached the spot at length
where he could see his father, apparently helpless, clinging to the
naked roots of a swept-down tree as if for his very life.

"Father!" cried the boy, as he anchored himself in turn, and gazing in
horror in the staring eyes that met his own. "What shall I do?" he
cried.

But help was near, and the despairing feeling that was overcoming poor
Will died out as the gruff, familiar voice of Manners just behind
cried--

"Hold on, Will, lad! That's right! I've got him tight! Why, Willows,
man, what's gone wrong?"

He whom he addressed turned his eyes slowly to give the speaker an
appealing look, and then they closed, the head dropped back, the surging
waters swept over the face, and, but for the artist's sturdy arm, it
would have gone ill indeed; but the next moment the fainting man's head
was raised and rested on the artist's shoulder.

"He must be badly hurt, Will. But all right; I've got him safe, and
I'll soon take him to the shore."

"Here, let me take one side," cried Will.

"Nonsense, dear lad! Stay as you are."

"I can't," cried Will; "I must help. He is my father, and I must and
will!"

"That's right, my boy, but on my word you can't. I am a strong man, I
believe, but it is all I can do to hold my own. If you leave go you'll
be swept away, and your father will be drowned; for I tell you now, I
couldn't stop by him and see you go."

Will gazed at him blankly, and for a few moments that group in the midst
of the tangle of broken timber and jagged root hung together, boy and
man staring into each other's eyes.

"Will, dear lad," said the artist, at last, "we are good old friends.
Trust and believe in me. I'll save your father if I can. If I don't,
it is because I can't, and I've gone too. Promise me you'll hold on
there till I come back, or some of your friends come down. They must
know how we are fixed. Will you do what I say? I am speaking as your
father would. Hold on where you are."

"Would he say that?" gasped Will, faintly.

"He would, I vow."

Will bowed his head, and the next moment he was clinging there, to the
clean-washed roots of the uptorn tree, watching the heads of father