“Wade out as far as you can into the river,” he instructed the boy. “When you have to, swim. If you can’t make it, Brad and I will pull you in fast.”
“I’ll make it,” Dan said grimly.
Brad and the Cub leader removed their own shoes and socks, rolled up their trousers, and waded out a short distance into the flood.
“Now be careful,” Mr. Hatfield warned as Dan prepared to start on alone. “If you find yourself in trouble, signal with a quick tug of the rope.”
“I’ll be all right,” the boy replied confidently.
While Mr. Hatfield and Brad held one end of the rope, he waded on alone, picking his way cautiously. The muddy water washed to his knees, then to his waist, and finally came to shoulder depth.
The next moment the swift current swept him from his feet. Dan began to stroke smoothly only to discover that the river was carrying him downstream much too fast. Unless he exerted every ounce of his strength, he would be carried beyond his goal.
Dan dug in. His arms dipped and swept downward to his sides in powerful drives. His legs, churning in the steady six-beat crawl, gave him added propulsion.
The bush and the lodge boat loomed directly ahead. But the current, bent on carrying him with it, seemed to take on perverse strength. Despite his best efforts, he saw that he would be carried past his goal.
“Swim, Dan!” Mr. Hatfield shouted. “Swim hard!”