ty glad to get back on the first. He's an awfully decent
chap, is Post. Did you see that thing he has in this month's Hilltonian
about Cooke? Says the Fac's going to establish a class in bakery and put
Cooke in as teacher because he's such a fine _loafer_! Say, what's the
matter down there?"

The shell containing Cloud and Clausen had reached a point almost
opposite to where West and Joel were perched, and as the latter looked
toward it at West's exclamation he saw Cloud throw aside his oars and
stand upright in the boat. Clausen had turned and was looking at his
friend, but still held his oars.

"By Jove, Joel, she's sinking!" cried Outfield. "Look! Why doesn't
Clausen get out? There goes Cloud over. I wonder if Clausen can swim?
swim? Come on!"

And half tumbling, half climbing, West sped down the bank on to the
tiny strip of rocks and gravel that lay along the water. Joel followed.
Cloud now was in the water at a little distance from the shell, which
had settled to the gunwales. Clausen, plainly in a state of terror, was
kneeling in the sinking boat and crying to the other lad for help. The
next moment he was in the water, and his shouts reached the two lads on
the beach. Cloud swam toward him, but before he could reach him Clausen
had gone from sight.

"What shall we do?" cried West. "He's drowning! Can you swim?" For Joel
had already divested himself of his coat and vest, and was cutting the
lacings of his shoes. West hesitated an instant only, then
followed suit.

"Yes." Off went the last shoe, and Joel ran into the water. West, pale
of face, but with a determined look in his blue eyes, followed a moment
later, a yard or two behind, and the two set out with desperate strokes
to reach the scene of the disaster. As he had taken the water Joel had
cast a hurried glance toward the spot where Clausen had sunk, and had
seen nothing of that youth; only Cloud was in sight, and he seemed to be
swimming hurriedly toward shore.

Joel went at the task hand over hand and heard behind him West, laboring
greatly at his swimming. Presently Joel heard his name cried in an
exhausted voice.

"I--can't make--it--Joel!" shouted West. "I'll--have to--turn--back."

"All right," Joel called. "Go up to the field and send some one for
help." Then he turned his attention again to his strokes, and raising
his head once, saw an open river before him with nothing in sight
between him and the opposite bank save, farther down stream, a