Standing, breathless, a pace or two apart, they saw Vane and the girl appear from beneath the willows and wash away down-stream. The man was swimming, but he was hampered by his burden, and once he and Mabel sank almost from sight in a whirling eddy. Carroll said nothing. Turning, he ran along the sloping ridge until the fall was less and the trees were thinner; then he leaped out into the air. He broke through the alders amid a rustle of bending boughs, and disappeared; but a moment or two later his shoulders shot out of the water close beside Vane, and the two men went down the stream with Mabel between them.
Evelyn scrambled wildly along the ridge, and when she reached the foot of it, Vane was helping Mabel up the sloping bank of gravel. The girl's drenched garments clung about her, and her wet hair was streaked across her face, but she seemed able to stand. The hunt had swept on through shoaler water, but there was a cheer from the stragglers across the river. Evelyn clutched her sister, half laughing, half sobbing, and incoherently upbraided her. Mabel shook herself free, and her first remark was characteristic.
"Oh, don't make a silly fuss! I'm only wet through. Wallace, take me home."
She tried to shake out her dripping skirt, and Vane picked her up, as she seemed to expect it. The others followed when he pushed through the underbrush toward a neighboring meadow. Evelyn, however, was still a little unnerved, and when they reached a gap in a wall she stopped and leaned heavily against the stones.
"I think I'm more disturbed than Mopsy is," she said to Carroll. "What I felt must be some excuse for me. You were right, of course. I'm sorry for what I said; it was unjustifiable."
Carroll laughed lightly.
"Anyway, it was perfectly natural; but I must confess that I felt some temptation to make a spectacular fool of myself. I might have jumped into those alders, but it's most unlikely that I could have got out of them."
Evelyn looked at him with a new respect. He had not troubled to point out that he had not flinched from the jump when it seemed likely to be of service.
"How could you have the sense to think of that?" she asked.
"I suppose it's a matter of practise. One can't work among the ranges and rivers without learning to make the right decision rapidly. When you don't, you get badly hurt. With most of us, the thing has to be cultivated; it's not instinctive."