“I ain’t any wonder, but I’m good enough,” he boasted. “After swimming in the East River there ain’t any particular fun splashing around in this dump. Where do you go in? Right here?”
“Gee, no! It’s too darn swift and rocky. There’s a nice pool below the falls, about a mile down. Anybody’d be a nut to try to here.”
“Huh!” grunted Garrity. “I guess I could take care of myself all right. Say! Looka that squirrel over there. Want to see me bean him?”
He sprang up and reached hastily for a loose stone lying on the very edge of the steep bank. For most of the way this was solid rock, but just here there happened to be a treacherous patch of moss-grown earth. Red’s eyes were fixed on the inquisitive little animal perched on the opposite bank, and he stepped rather closer to the edge than he intended. The next instant he felt a sickening give beneath his feet and made a wild, panicky effort to regain his balance. It failed. Clawing desperately at the smooth surface of the bank, he felt himself plunging down the deep incline, heard a smothered cry from Shrimp, and struck the water with a tremendous splash.
It seemed icy cold, and Red was smitten instantly by a keen despairing horror. In spite of his recent boasting, he had never ventured into the East River, or any other. All he knew of swimming was a few primitive strokes learned in one visit to a Y. M. C. A. pool which had never been repeated. Even those were forgotten during that smothering, choking immersion. When he finally came to the surface he struck out wildly, beating the water blindly and ineffectually with his hands. Already he had swept far past the spot where he had fallen in. Shrimp was nowhere to be seen. There was no one in sight—nothing save the cruel rocky banks and the blurred shadows of the hemlocks past which he was tossed helplessly.
In those awful moments which seemed like hours, a swift procession of vivid, fantastic pictures whirled through Red’s despairing brain. Then his head went under again and a moment later, dazed and half senseless, he felt himself driven against something hard and solid at which he clutched with all the strength and energy of desperation.
It was a boulder jutting up in midstream. For a moment Red’s progress was stayed, but he knew that it was only the briefest respite. The swirling current tugged at his legs and body; his numbed fingers slipped and slid across the smooth, waterworn surface. He thought of the fall below with its torrent of water thundering down to that bed of sharp pointed, fantastic rocks, and a gurgling, choking cry of horror and despair burst from his blue lips.
CHAPTER XIX
A SCORE IS PAID
Garrity’s cry for help was purely instinctive. He had no hope at all that it would be answered, and his surprise was very great when the bushes on the bank above him were thrust aside and a slim figure appeared, to stare down in astonishment.
“Help!” he cried again. “I’m drowning! Help!”