“Did he—did he—hear me—calling?”
“Of course he did. That's what startled him, I imagine. Poor boy! I fear he is gone.”
“Did he fall in, or did he dive?”
“He seemed to dive, but he has not come up. I fear he is gone.”
“Oh, nonsense, father,” said the girl. “I bet you he has swum round the bend. Just go over the rock and see.”
“God grant it!” said her father.
He dropped his paddle, ran up over the rock and down into the little dell on the other side that ran down to the water's edge. There he saw a tent, with all the accompaniments of a well ordered camp, and a man cooking breakfast on a small fire.
“Well, I'll be combusticated!” he said to himself, weakly holding to a little poplar tree.
“I say!” he cried, “where is he? Has he come in? Is he all right?”
“Who?” said the man at the fire.