The swift current swept Penny on toward the upright rod. She took three, four powerful strokes and reached frantically for the standard. Her fingers closed around the metal. The swift flowing water whipped her violently, but she held fast. Drawing herself close to the rod, she shoved her feet downward. Still she could find no bottom.
Hopefully, Penny glanced toward the station, now less than twenty-five yards away. Although water completely surrounded the squat little building, it had not risen to the window level. Yet there was no sign of anyone near the place—no one to help her.
Still clinging to the rod, she groped again with her bare feet. This time she located a steel rail. By standing on it, she raised herself a few inches and found firm footing. Suddenly an idea came to her.
“If I shove off hard from this rail, maybe I can get enough momentum to carry me through the current! If I fail—”
Penny decided not to think about that. Releasing her hold on the rod, she pushed off with all her strength and began to swim. Digging her face into the water, she held her breath and put everything she had into each stroke. Pull, pull, pull—she had to keep on. Her breath was nearly gone, strength fast was deserting her. Yet to turn her head and gulp air might spell defeat when victory was near. She could feel the torrent swinging her downstream. She made a final, desperate spurt.
“I can’t make it!” she thought. “I can’t!”
Yet she struggled on. Then suddenly her churning feet struck a solid object. It was the brick platform of the station!
Raising her head, she saw the building loom up in front of her. The current no longer tugged at her body. She had reached quiet water.
Penny stood still a moment, regaining her breath.
Then she waded to the front door of the station. It could not be opened. Penny pounded and shouted. Her cries went unanswered.