"He'll never do it—'tis right out in midstream."
"Hi—look out there on the bank!"
"He'll be smashed to pieces on the Malli Rock."
"No, no! he's too far out."
The blue shirt is carried past the threatening rock, but making straight for the big raft below. A clenched hand is raised to bid the men there stand aside—he will manage alone. But they take no heed. One thrusts a pole between the swimmer's legs as he nears the raft, another grasps him by the neck, and they haul him up—a heavy pull, with the water striving all the time to suck him under. Inch by inch the blue shirt rises above the edge.
He limps ashore, supported by a man on either side. One knee is bleeding.
"'Tis more than man can do!" he cries in a broken voice, shaking his fist toward the bridge.
* * * * *
There is a low murmur of voices on the bridge, an anxious whispering. Olof picks up his pole. Close behind him a young girl plucks at the sleeve of an elderly man, and seems to be urging him, entreating….
Moisio turns to Olof. "Once more I ask of you—let it be enough. You have seen how your companion fared. Do not try it again."