Fearing to drown the broncho, the boy slipped off, at the same time taking a firm grip on the lines.
Bad-eye came to the surface at once. Ned's right hand was on the pommel, the reins bunched in his left. He brought his knee sharply against the animal's side.
"Whoop!" he urged, again driving the knee against the pony's ribs.
Under the strong guiding hand of his master, the animal fighting every inch of the way, began swimming down stream.
"I'm coming!" shouted the boy.
Before that moment he had not had breath nor the time to call.
"I'm coming!" he repeated, as they swung around the wide sweeping curve.
"Are you there, Tad?"
"Yes," was the scarcely distinguishable reply. "I've got to let go."
"You hold on. Bad-eye and I will be there in a minute and the
Professor is hurrying down along the bank with a rope."