Mrs. Kimbal did as she was told. But the buggy, relieved at last of all weight, slid off sidewise with the current, turned turtle, and was carried swiftly down-stream. Saterlee staggering, for the footing was uncertain, and holding Mrs. Kimbal high in his arms, started for shore. The water rose above his waist, and kept rising. He halted, bracing himself against the current.
"Ma'am," he said in a discouraged voice, "it's no use. I've just got to let you get wet. We've got to swim to make it."
"All right," she said cheerfully.
"Some folks," he said, "likes to go overboard sudden; some likes to go in by degrees."
"Between the two for me," said Mrs. Kimbal. "Not suddenly, but firmly and without hesitation."
She gave a little shivery gasp.
"It's not really cold," she said. "How strong the current pulls. Will you have to swim and tow me?"
"Yes," he said.
"Then wait," she said. "Don't let me be carried away."
He steadied her while she drew the hat-pins from her hat and dropped it as carelessly on the water as if that had been her dressing-table. Then she took down her hair. It was in two great brown, shining braids. The ends disappeared in the water, listing down-stream.