He retraced his steps to the water’s edge. The river was once more a placidly flowing stream, its surface harmless and innocent of treachery.
“You’re a hypocrite,” Roy said. “You are a two-faced fraud. However, I’ll try you once more.”
It came to him that if he was to reach the mainland he must swim for it. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the keen air.
“My powers of recuperation are extraordinary, to say the least,” he laughed. “Good thing I found that porcupine! All right—camera ready? The boy hero will attempt to swim the terrible rapids—only they’re more like a lake now. But we’ll call ’em rapids to make it look harder.”
He removed his outer clothing and waded in. The opposite shore seemed much nearer now, probably because the water had receded. At all events, he struck out with a will and arrived on the bank not at all exhausted. As he left the water he thought of the spectacle he must present, with the wounds on his shoulder and arm still showing plainly and dressed in a soggy suit of underwear. He burst into a loud laugh.
“Come, take a snapshot!” he exclaimed. “Having a wonderful time! Wish you were here! The bathing is great!”
“Roy!”
He turned his face alight with expectation.
“Roy! Oh, golly, it’s Roy!”
From the bushes leaped three figures—three happy, excited, capering figures.