By this time the boat had passed by the town, and it now came to a part of the river which was bordered by smooth, grassy banks on each side, and with a row of willows growing near the margin of the water. This was the place, in fact, where Rollo had walked along the shore with his mother, in going down to visit the junction of the Rhone and the Arve.
"Now," said Gerald, "here is a chance for us to make a landing. I'll head her in towards the shore."
So Gerald turned the head of the boat in towards the bank, and then, by dint of hard rowing, the boys contrived gradually to draw nearer and nearer to the shore, though they were all the time drifting rapidly down. At last the boat came so near that the bow was just ready to touch the bank, and then Gerald seized the painter, and, watching his opportunity, leaped ashore, and, running to the nearest willow, wound the painter round it. This at once checked the motion of the bow, and caused the stern to swing round. Gerald immediately unwound the painter, and ran to the willow next below, where he wound it round again, and there succeeded at last in making it fast, and stopping the motion of the boat altogether. Rollo and the Swiss boy then made their escape safe to land.
"There!" said Rollo, taking at the same time a high jump, to express his exultation; "there! Here we are safe, and who cares?"
"Ah!" said Gerald, calmly; "it is very easy to say Who cares? now that we have got safe to land; but you'll find me looking out sharp not to get sucked into those ripples again."
So the boys went home. Gerald found a man to go down and bring back the boat, while Rollo proceeded to the hotel, to report the affair to his father and mother. Mrs. Holiday was very much alarmed, but Mr. Holiday seemed to take the matter quite coolly. He said he thought that Rollo was now, for all the rest of his life, in much less danger of being drowned by getting carried down rapids in a river than he was before.
"He understands the subject now somewhat practically," said Mr. Holiday.
The term of Mr. Holiday's visit had now expired, and the arrangements were to be made for leaving town, with a view of returning again to Paris. Rollo, however, was very desirous that before going back to Paris they should make at least a short excursion among the mountains.
"Where shall we go?" said his father.
"To the valley of Chamouni," said Rollo. "They say that that is the prettiest place in all Switzerland."