"It is Clint," cried Eb, throwing off his vest in a hurry. "Boys, I'm going to take my swim now."
He plunged into the stream, followed by one boy and another until there was a line of bobbing heads between the island and the shore. As soon as they reached the mainland they went plunging along the bank until they came to the elm-tree, and there they seized the tow-line and began pulling in the bateau hand over hand, aided now by a pair of oars at the other end of the line.
How they worked!—worked with set teeth, and scarlet, sweaty faces, because the heavy boat pulled so hard against the stream. But they gained slowly; the line slackened, and coil after coil was twisted about the elm-tree; it was at any rate only a question of time. So the moment came when Clint Parsons, brown-faced and bare-footed, as on that memorable Saturday afternoon, handed the Berry twins out of the bateau, and stepped out after them, and every boy on the bank there stood breathless, and wondered in his heart what Mel would do and say.
They had not long to wait. Mel's face flamed, and he hesitated, but only for an instant, before he caught Clint's hand.
"Oh, Clint," he cried, chokingly, "how can I ever thank you! To think of it all, and now you've risked—Oh, Clint, you've risked your life—" and then he broke down, and began to cry, because he could not help it.
"No," said Clint, as the other boys gathered around with eager questions, "I didn't risk my life. I wasn't really in any danger. I saw the boys just about as soon as they got the boat adrift—you see, I was picking rocks in Mr. Barrow's pasture there—and I didn't know what to do until I remembered seeing this tow-line hanging up in the granary. So I got it as quick's I could, and swam out, and headed the boat off. I nearly missed it, and I'm as glad as any of you that I didn't. But I'd have been safe enough anyway. It wasn't any risk. The twins were having a nice time," Clint laughed, looking down at the brace of black-eyed six-year-olds. "They didn't think much about the Falls."
"But without you they would have gone over," and Mel shuddered at the horrible thought.
"Never mind; they're all right now, and don't say anything more about it."
"I've got more'n that to say," said Mel, suddenly and steadily. "I suppose you'll all hate me, but I can't help it; I've tried to tell you time and again, but I couldn't, I was such a coward. Boys, Clint didn't take my fish, and I've known he didn't ever since the week after I lost it. Old Davy Parmalee found it floating in the stream, and I hired him not to say anything about it. And—and I hope you'll forgive me, Clint, and all of you."