“I hate you!” pouted Floy, and letting her hands slip, sunk again below the surface.
Terribly alarmed, he dived and brought her safely to the surface once more, saying, sternly:
“Do not be so careless again, or you may lose your life.”
To his amazement, she laughed mockingly.
“Swim on and I’ll keep by your side. Don’t be alarmed over me, for I’ve been doing all this for a purpose. I can swim like a fish.”
And, to his wonder and chagrin, for he felt himself grow hot even in the cold water with the thought that he had suddenly been turned from a conquering hero into an object of ridicule, Fly-away Floy, the merry little madcap, swam along by his side as easily and gracefully as a beautiful mermaid, until they reached the bank, when he gave her his hand to assist her, and they came again upon terra firma, greeted by admiring cheers from the onlookers.
While they were in the water, Otho had hurried to Maybelle, and whispered, hoarsely:
“Why didn’t you hold him tighter, you little fool? If you could have kept him from going to her assistance a short time, she would have been drowned and out of your way.”
“I knew it, and I tried to keep him back, but he shook me off in a rage, and I—I’m sure he even swore at me under his breath,” whimpered Maybelle, despairingly.
“Very likely,” grumbled Otho; and then he turned from her to watch Beresford’s progress, and saw to his amazement the man and girl clambering up the bank.