Two furious strokes, a swift step, and another, and, lifting his pole, he flies through the air—toward the shore. The pole strikes something, as all on the bridge can hear—then he is lost to sight.
A rush of men downstream, crying and shouting….
Then, a moment later, a waving of hats from the men at Akeanlinna, and a cheer is passed from group to group upstream. Some stop, others race on—he is saved—but how?
Then a tall figure appears standing on the shore, waving his hand triumphantly. A mighty cheer from all the onlookers and a waving of hats and kerchiefs. "There he is!"
Olof walks up with easy steps, but the blood is streaming down his face. The first to meet him is a girl, her face pale, her body trembling with emotion. She is standing by herself—the others are still far off.
Olof stops and hesitates—shall he go to meet her, or turn off? The girl casts down her eyes. He draws nearer—she looks up, and gives him one deep, warm glance, and looks down again—her cheeks flushed.
Olof's face lights up, and he lifts his hat as he passes. Then the crowd surges round him with shouts of applause.
"Bravo! Well done! Here's the man that's beaten Kohiseva! Who's the best man now?"
Vantti steps forward and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Well done, lad! 'Tis plain to see you're not born to be drowned." And the sturdy fellow laughs till his great boots shake.
"You've made a name for yourself to-day," says Falk.