"Then they'll take him to the bottom, sure," said Artie, and grew more anxious than ever for his cousin's safety.
The disappearance of Sandy had been noticed from the bridge and from both shores, and now several small boats put out. Titus Lyon broke away from those who held him and went overboard with a loud splash, and two minutes later a boat picked him up, more dead than alive.
When Artie and Life reached the spot where Sandy had disappeared, nothing was to be seen of the young lieutenant, and a blank look seized upon the faces of the would-be rescuers. Suddenly, however, the tall Kentuckian gave a leap to the stern.
"There he is!" he shouted.
"Where?"
"Under water several feet. He is going down!"
As Life spoke he threw off his coat and hat, his boots followed,—in a moment he slipped overboard.
The boat had now swung around with the current, and Artie had his hands full bringing her up to the proper position and holding her there. Artie's heart was in his throat. Poor Orly Lyon had been shot down in battle, and now, if Sandy was also lost, what would his Uncle Titus and his kind-hearted Aunt Susan do?
"Oh, I do hope Life brings him up!" he thought, when the head of the Kentuckian appeared, dripping with water. Life supported Sandy in his arms, and Artie brought the flatboat up close. In a moment Sandy was laid on the seat and the captain of the seventh company clambered in.
The eyes of the lieutenant were closed, and Artie could not tell whether he was dead or otherwise. "Is it—it all right?" he faltered.