Cowboy Dave; Or, The Round-up at Rolling River

by Frank V. Webster

"Maybe you were bound fast to the wreckage, or it didn't float into deep water."

"I don't know about being bound fast, but I do know the wreckage floated around, or rather, down stream. But that wasn't what I referred to."

"What was it?"

"Can't you guess?"

"I don't think so."

"I had on a cork life-preserver," said Dave. "I was looking at it this morning when you called to me."

"A cork life-preserver?" excitedly repeated Mr. Bellmore. "Was it—was it any particular kind, Dave?"

"Why, yes, it was. But why do you look at me so strangely?"

"Never mind that now! Tell me about that life-preserver. How was it made?"

"From bottle corks strung together and made into a belt. I had it around me when dad—I mean Mr. Carson—picked me up. I—I thought the preserver might be a clew but it isn't, for—"