The surprise of the helpless watchers on the shore precludes description. They knew that out upon that seething river a tragedy was being enacted; but the driving rain made a wall about them—they could not aid, they could not even see. They stood about in groups, and whispered, and listened, and strained their eyes to pierce the mist.  
Mark's friends were wild with alarm; and his enemies—who can describe their feelings?
 
A man has said that it is a terrible thing to die with a wrong upon one's soul; but that it is agony to see another die whom you have wronged, to know that your act can never be atoned for now. That there is one unpardonable sin to your account on the records of eternity. That was how the yearlings felt; and even Bull Harris, ruffian though he was, trembled slightly about the lips.
 
The storm itself was one of those which come but seldom. Nature's mighty forces flung loose in one giant[Pg 220] cataclysm. It came from the north, and it had a full sweep down the valley of the Hudson, pent in and focused to one point by the mountains on each side. It tore the trees from the tops as it came; it struck the river with a swish, and beat the water into foam. It flung the raindrops in gusts against it, and caught them up in spray and whirled them on; and this, to the echoing crashes of the thunder and the dull, lurid gleam of the lightning that played in the rear.
 
One is silent at such times at that; the frightened cadets on the shore would probably have stood in groups and trembled, and done nothing through it all, had it not been for a cry that aroused them. Some one, sharper eyed than the rest, espied a figure struggling in the water near the shore. There was a rush for the spot, and strong arms drew the swimmer in. It was Captain Fischer, breathless and exhausted from the race.
 
He lay on the bank, panting for breath for a minute, and then raised himself upon his arms.
 
"Where's Mallory?" he cried, his voice sounding faint and distant in the roar of the storm.
 
"Out there," responded somebody, pointing.
 
[Pg 221]"W-why don't somebody go help him?" gasped the other. "He'll drown!"
 
"Don't know where to go to," answered the first speaker, shaking his head.
 
Fischer sank back, too exhausted, himself, to move.
 
"He'll drown! He'll drown!" he muttered. "He is tired to death from the race."
 
And after that there was another anxious wait, every one hesitating, wondering if there were any use venturing into the tossing water.
 
The storm was one that came in gusts; its first minute's fury past, there was a brief let up in its violence, and the darkness that the black clouds had brought with them yielded to the daylight for a while. During that time those on the shore got one brief glimpse of a startling panorama.
 
The boat was sighted first, still skimming along before the gale, but obviously laboring with the water she had shipped. The frightened occupant was still in the stern, clinging to the gunwale with terror. There was a shout raised when the boat was noticed, and all eyes were bent upon it anxiously. Then some one, chancing a glance down the river below, caught a glimpse of a moving head.
 
[Pg 222]"There's Mallory!" he cried. "Hooray!"
 
There was Mallory, and Mallory was swimming desperately, as the crowd could dimly see. For the boat he was aiming at was just a little farther out in the stream than he, and bearing swiftly down upon him. Whatever happened must happen with startling rapidity, and the crowd knew it, and forebore to shout—almost to breathe.
 
The boat plunged on; the swimmer fairly leaped through the waves. Nearer it came, nearer—up to him—past him! No! For, as it seemed, the bow must cleave his body, the body was seen to leap forward with it. He had caught the boat! And a wild cheer burst from the spectators.
 
"He's safe! He's safe!"
 
But the cheer, as it died out, seemed to catch in their throats, and to change into a gasp of suspense, and then of horror.
 
Mallory had clung to the bow for a moment, as if too exhausted to move. His body, half submerged, had cut a white furrow in the water, drawn on by the plunging boat. Then the girl, in an evil moment, released her hold and sprang forward to help him. She caught his arm, and he flung himself upon the boat.
 
[Pg 223]And then came the crash.
 
Leaning to one side, with the sudden weight, the boat half turned, and then gibed with terrific violence. The great boom swung around like a giant club, driven by the pressure of the wind upon the vast surface of the sail. The watchers gave a half-suppressed gasp, Mallory was seen to put out his arm, and the next instant the blow was struck.
 
It hit the girl with a crash that those on shore thought they heard; it flung her far out into the water, and almost at the same instant Mallory was seen to leap out in a low, quick dive. Then, as if the scene was over, and the book shut, the rain burst out again in its fury, and the darkness of the raging storm shut it all out.
 
This time there could be no mistaking duty; the cadets knew now where the struggling pair were, and they had no reason to hesitate. First to move was one of a group of six anxious plebes, who had been waiting in agony; it was Texas, and the spectators saw him plunge into the water and vanish in the driving rain. Then more of that crowd followed him; Fischer, too, sprang up, exhausted though he was, and in the end there were at least a dozen[Pg 224] sturdy lads swimming with all their might toward the spot where Mallory had been seen to leap.
 
They were destined, however, to do but little good; so we shall stay by those upon the shore.
 
The weakening of Bull Harris' followers has been mentioned; it increased as the plebe's self-sacrificing daring was shown.
 
"He certainly is spunky," one of the crowd ventured to mutter, as he shivered and watched. "I hope he gets ashore."
 
And Bull turned upon him with a savage oath.
 
"You fool!" he cried. "You confounded fool! If he does, I could kill him! Kill him! Do you hear me?"
 
There are some natures like that. Have you read the tale of Macauley's?—
 
"How brave Horatius held the bridge
In the good old days of yore."
There was just such a hero then battling with the waves as now—
 
"Curse him!" cried false Sextus.
"Will not the vill............