Over her head swept the cane, brushing the plumes on her hat.
For an instant she tottered, seeming to sway toward the rapids in the effort to regain her equilibrium.
In that instant Frank Merriwell's strong right arm had sent the stranger, with one great surge, reeling to his knees some feet from the water's edge, and then his left arm encircled Inza's waist and drew her from the perilous spot.
She was white as the mist that rose in a great cloud close at hand.
"Inza!" cried Merry chokingly. "Thank Heaven you had presence of mind and dodged!"
"Oh, Frank!" she murmured; "I nearly fell into the water after that!"
He gave her all his attention.
"That old man must be crazy!" he said. "No one at his age that is not crazy or foolish would prowl about at the very edge of the river here, where a misstep means almost certain death. He should be locked up!"
Then he turned to look for the stranger, but saw the bent form at a distance. Without having paused to utter a word of explanation, apology, or regret, the man was hastening away.
"Further proof that he's daffy," muttered Frank.