Frank and Bob exchanged a quick glance. Of course this put quite another face on the matter. If Peg was really in danger they had no business to stand there, laughing. It might seem funny to them, but to Peg the matter was not at all comical.
"I don't believe the critter knows how to swim, Bob!" exclaimed Frank.
"That's what," answered the other, seriously. "He's just keeping up because he's crazy with fright. We've got to get him out of there, Frank."
"We sure have; come along," echoed the western boy.
Fortunately Frank was possessed of a quick mind. He never wasted any time in wondering what methods he should use in order to accomplish things.
The pool was of considerable width, and even though he bent over its border he would not be able to come within five feet of the struggling Peg.
Without hesitation he stepped into the water, holding his gun. Two feet from the bank and it was to his knees. But he believed he had now reached a point where he could hold out his rifle and touch Peg.
"Take hold, and I'll pull you out!" he called, as he extended the gun.
It was laughable to see how eagerly the other seized upon the chance. And, when Peg had fastened himself to the other end of the rifle Frank easily drew him shoreward.
The bully came out, dripping wet, and in anything but an angelic temper. It was bad enough, in his eyes, to have fallen into the pool; but to be rescued by a fellow he hated, as he did Frank Haywood, added to the aggravation.