, with the prow
pointed downward, and appeared to be looking for a passage through the
submerged bowlders. Presently he turned towards his friends on shore,
swung the oar over his head, stepped on board, and was quickly out of
sight.

A cry of alarm went up from the soldiers when Reddy disappeared, and
they with one accord started on a run down the shore. At the foot of the
steep descent they found the brave boy paddling his skiff into a quiet
eddy.

He was greeted with vociferous enthusiasm, and a dozen men shouldered
him and the boat, and carried them back to the landing. There a line was
attached to the stern of the skiff, and a strong man rowed out toward
the snag, but the current dragged it back precisely as it had the
swimmers. Captain Bartlett next ordered the boat to be towed a quarter
of a mile up stream, and as it floated down and was rowed outward he
directed the shore end of the line to be carried along with it.

It became quickly evident to the spectators that the skiff would reach
the snag, and an involuntary cheer went up, Mrs. Maloney waving her
apron and screaming with tearful joy. But through some blunder, or lack
of skill, the original accident was repeated. The wherry dropped
sideways against the tree and was swamped. This time, however, a line
being attached, the skiff was drawn free, and swung back to the shore by
the pull of the current. The man clung to the boat and was landed at the
crest of the rapid.

The anguish of the poor mother at the failure of what had promised to be
a certain rescue of her son was pitiful. She fell upon her knees, wrung
her hands, and sobbed in abject despair. Reddy approached, stooped
beside her, and placing an arm about her neck, said:

"Do not cry, Mrs. Maloney; I'm going to ask the Captain to let me go to
Teddy, and I'll have him here with you in no time."

"No, no, child. Don't ye be dhrownded, too. Nothing can save me b'y now
ahl the min have failed."

"But I mean to try it, Mrs. Maloney. Dry your tears and watch me do it."

Teddy Maloney on the snag in mid-stream was now suffering intensely.
Seated upon a tree trunk barely ten inches in diameter, and kept from
flipping down its slope by a rugged knot, his position was almost
unendurable. For five hours he had clung there hatless and coatless,
with his back to a broiling sun. Dazed by suffering and dizzied by the
leaping, gliding, and wrinkling water that gurgled and pulled at his
half-submerged legs, he