He was paddling himself
along with arms and legs hung over the sides of the plank. We all gave him
a cheer, and then started out to have some fun with him. We tried to pull
him off his raft, but he stuck on like a leech. It was only when we made
his craft turn turtle that Dutchy got his head under water. But it wasn't
a moment before he scrambled back on top again, gasping and sputtering to
get the water out of his nose and mouth.
Uncle Ed all this time had been sunning himself on the bank, when suddenly
he uttered a shout of warning. We were right at the mouth of the
mill-race. For the moment we forgot about Dutchy, and swam out for shore.
Before we realized it Dutchy was caught in the current, and was being
swept full tilt down the stream. My but wasn't he scared. I can see him
yet clinging for dear life to the plank, his face the color of ashes and
his eyes bulging out in terror. First he tried to make for the bank, but
the water was so swift that when the front end of the board struck land
the rear end swung around in a circle, carrying him on again, but backward
this time, before we could reach him. Two or three more times the plank
struck the bank and turned him around, while we raced along the high bank,
scrambling down to catch him every time he headed for shore, but each time
just missing him.
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