Cecil’s panic-stricken cry was muffled by a resounding splash as his body struck the pool below.
“My brother will drown!” screamed Helena hysterically. “He can’t swim a stroke!”
Connie had rushed to the edge of the cliff. Jerking off her riding boots, she poised for an instant on the brow of the declivity. Then she shot out into space head foremost, turning slowly in mid-air so that she broke the water with the lower part of her body. The force of the fall sent her deep into the pool and even her heavy clothing did not protect her from the stinging lash of the blow.
Two powerful strokes brought her to the surface. Cecil was almost within arm’s reach, sputtering and wildly thrashing the water.
Connie whipped an arm about his chest and towed him to the edge of the pool. She climbed out on a low ledge of rock and pulled him up after her. For a few minutes Cecil sputtered water like a lawn sprinkler. Then instead of thanking Connie for saving him he said wrathfully:
“I shall report this to my father. He’ll have that cowboy of yours arrested!”
“I don’t know what came over Lefty,” Connie said soothingly. “He’s usually very even tempered. You must have said something which angered him.”
Cecil avoided the girl’s glance.
“The fellow tried to drown me,” he snapped. “But he’ll pay for it.”
“Lefty didn’t mean to push you over the precipice, I am sure of that,” replied Connie. “You slipped on the rock, and then it crumbled.”