Within a few seconds after McGovern felt the water about his ankles it touched his knees. He was still able to make progress, and with the same despairing desperation as before, struggled .  
At the next step he went to his waist, and fell with a splash.
 
“I’m drowning!” he ; but fortunately for him he had into a small hollow, out of which he was swept the next moment, and, with no effort on his part, flung upon his feet.
 
The roar was overpowering. It seemed as if he were in the of Niagara, with the raging waters all around him clamoring for his life. He grasped a limb which brushed his face, and the next step showed that he had struck higher ground.
 
But the was faster than he. It was gaining in spite of all he could do, but hope was not yet dead. Another step and the water was below his waist, and he was able to make progress with the help of his hands. When he lifted one foot it was swept to one side, and only by throwing his full weight upon it was he able to sustain himself.
 
He had now reached a point where the trees were not so near together. While this enabled him to see something of his surroundings, it gave the volume greater power, and he was in despair again.
 
But the dim light of the moon showed that at that moment the boundary of the current was only a few paces beyond him. Could he pass that intervening distance before it further expanded he would be safe.
 
Rousing his flagging energies he fought on, cheered by the view of a figure on the , which had evidently caught sight of him.
 
“A little farther and you will be all right!” shouted the stranger, stepping into the torrent and extending his hand.
 
“I can’t do it!” moaned McGovern, struggling on, but gaining no faster than the terrible enemy against which he was fighting.
 
“Yes, you will! don’t give up! take my hand!”
 
McGovern reached out, but he was short of grasping the friendly help. Then the brave friend stepped into the rushing torrent at the risk of his own life, and, griping the cold hand, exerted himself with the power of desperation, and dragged the helpless youth into the shallow margin.
 
“Don’t stop!” he shouted, still pulling him forward; “we are not yet out of danger!”
 
Helped by the stranger who had appeared so , the two splashed through the flood, which seemed striving to prevent their escape, and would drag them down in spite of themselves.
 
But the rescuer was cool-headed, strong, and brave, and he kept the weak McGovern going with a speed that threatened to fling him in spite of himself.
 
The ground rose more sharply than before. A few more hurried steps and their feet touched dry land. Still a few paces farther and they were saved.
 
The torrent might roar and rage, but it could not seize them. They had its , like the hunter who leaps aside from the bound of the tiger.
 
McGovern stood for a minute panting, limp, and so that he could hardly keep his feet. His companion did not speak, but kept his place beside him, gazing into his , and waiting until he should recover before addressing him.
 
The youth speedily his self-command, and for the first time looked in his rescuer’s face. They were now beyond the shadow of the trees, and could discern each other’s features quite distinctly in the favoring moonlight.
 
“Well!” he exclaimed, “I think you and I have met before.”
 
“I shouldn’t be surprised if we had,” was the reply; “you tried to destroy my bicycle last night.”
 
“And you saved me from drowning in the mill-pond.”
 
“I believe I gave you a little help in that way.”
 
“And now you have saved my life again.”
 
“I am glad I was able to do something for you, for you seemed to be in a bad way.”
 
“I should think I was! If you had been a minute later it would have been the last of Jim McGovern, and I tell you, Dick Halliard, he was in no shape to die.”
 
No person escaping death by such a close call could throw off at once the moral effect of his rescue. The bad youth was , frightened, and . He was in the presence of him who had twice been the instrument of saving his life in a brief space of time, and that, too, after McGovern had tried to do him an injury.
 
“I don’t know whether you can forgive me,” he said, in the of tones, “but I beg your pardon all the same.”
 
“I have no feeling against you,” replied Dick, “and though you sought to do me an injury, you the most on yourself; but,” added the young hero, starting up, &ldquo............