Slowly but surely Bob neared the bank of the river. The elderly man was close at hand, and the instant he was able to do so he caught his child by the arm and raised her up. "Thank God!" he murmured hoarsely, and strained the little one to his breast, while the tears started to his eyes.
One of the bicycle riders gave Bob a hand, and almost exhausted, the lad was drawn up to a place of safety. He tried to stand up, but could not, and sank down on the sward.
In the meantime the horses had come up and were plunging wildly, close to the wreck of the carriage. Both were on their sides, but presently one raised himself to a swimming position and struck out for the shore, dragging his mate and the wreck after him.
The bicyclist, who up to this point had done nothing, now ran forward, and as the horse came closer he caught the animal by the curb, and soon both steeds were safe, although each was bruised by hoof strokes received from the other.
"Your horses are all right now," said the wheelman, as he cut the team loose from the carriage, and tied them fast to a nearby palm tree. The carriage was fastened to the river bank.
"Never mind the horses—it is my child I was thinking of," responded the elderly man. He turned to Bob. "Young man, you have done me a great service—a very great service, indeed."
"Bessie is all wet," put in the little girl. "And so is that boy, papa. We want dry clothing."
"Yes, yes, child, you shall go back to the hotel directly. But first I must reward this brave young man for what he has done."
"Thank you, but I am not looking for a reward, sir," answered Bob, frankly. "I am glad that I was able to be of assistance."
"You are as generous as you are brave; I can see that. May I ask your name?"