prevent a surprise.

The laying of the pontoon-bridge was to Major Deck Lyon and his brother,
Captain Artie, a good deal of a novelty, and the Riverlawns assisted in
carrying more than one boat down to the rushing waters of the Tennessee.
Once the boats were strung from shore to shore, it was no easy matter to
link them together, or to get the planking down even after they were
linked, but all hands worked bravely, despite the occasional shots from
the Confederate pickets fleeing from the neighborhood.

The Riverlawns crossed the bridge in safety, all but two men, a private
of the sixth company, who quickly swam his horse ashore, and Sandy Lyon.
Sandy had a spirited horse, and was advised to lead him over; but the
lieutenant insisted on riding, and when the middle of the bridge was
reached, his horse shied, and Sandy slid overboard like a flash. He went
down, to come up at a point fifty feet down the turbulent stream.

"Help! help!" he yelled, as soon as he could eject the water from his
mouth. "Some of you fellows haul me out!"

"Can't you swim?" asked several, unwilling to endure a wetting if it was
not necessary.

"I can't swim much--ain't swum in five years," came in a gasp, "and this
clothing weighs a ton!"

Artie Lyon had seen Sandy go overboard, and now he drew his uncle's
attention to the scene. Titus was very much excited on the instant.
"Save Sandy--save my boy!" he cried, and he tried to leap overboard, but
Artie hauled him back.

"You can't swim, can you?" asked the captain.

"No--but--I don't want Sandy to drown!" panted Titus Lyon. "I've lost
one son already in this war!"

"There is a boat--I'll get that and go after Sandy," answered Artie.
"You stay here;" and he motioned for two cavalrymen standing near to
hold Titus and thus prevent him from throwing himself into the rushing
element.

The boat was a flat-bottomed affair, owned by an old fisherman of
Caperton. The oars were handy, and Artie was soon on a seat in the
craft. As he pushed off Life Knox leaped in beside him.

"Reckon two rowers are better nor one," said the tall Kentuckian, and
without a word Artie tossed him an oar. Soon the boat was making good
headway down the stream in the direction in which Sandy's head could be
seen bobbing up and down.

"Help me!" he cried again. "I'm played out!"

"Keep up a little longer,--we are coming," replied Artie, encouragingly.

"I can't keep up--something is fast to my foo--" And the words e