It was the man Walt, grabbing for the gun. "Leggo, you!" he panted, clutching at the revolver. "If you're too yellow to shoot let me have it!" Walt was no kid; he was in his late fifties at the least. But he was big and solid, and Groff was off balance. For a moment he staggered at the end of the jetty, Walt leaning on him.... They both went in. The water was cold and the current was fast. What became of the revolver Groff didn't know. He broke surface, spluttering and choking. Walt was splashing right beside him. "Help me!" he bawled. "For God's sake, help me! I can't swim!" Groff had one bitter moment of temptation--let him drown! cried his subconscious. But then the decision was out of his hands. Walt flailed toward him and caught him. Groff went under, choking; he struggled upward, carrying the panicky man with him, got a breath, went under again-- The next time he came to the surface someone was there to grab him. The goons! Instinctively he tried to fight free, but somebody in the boat had a good grip on his arm. They hauled him in, and another boat had Walt. "You all right?" one of the men in the boat demanded anxiously. Groff said dizzily, "Sure. But--" "Take it easy," said the man in the boat. "We'll take you up to the emergency center. We figured you people'd need some help, so after we got things under control on our side we came on over." He said proudly, "They thought I was nuts, keeping after everybody to join the Civil Defense squads. I guess they'll change their minds now!" Chief Brayer was looking a little ashamed of himself, but he recovered quickly. All the men from the other side of the river had guns; all of them were personally vouched for by the Civil Defense man; they made valuable reinforcements for the exhausted deputies Brayer had been swearing in. They found dry clothes for Groff, and Brayer put him in charge of the dispatcher's desk to give him a chance to warm up. It had turned windy with nightfall. There was a commotion outside, and a couple of state troopers came in. Groff looked past them; there was a dignified-looking old man, somebody of importance, by the way the troopers stood by him. And with him were Artie Chesbro and Sharon Froman. Groff stood up to get a better look. Chesbro glanced around the room, caught Groff's eye, looked away, gave him a fishy smile, spoke to the dignified-looking old man, and shepherded him out of the room, along with Chief Brayer and a couple of other top men. Something didn't smell good. Groff called another deputy over and asked him to take care of the desk. He walked over to one of the troopers and said: "Who's that you came in with?" The trooper said, "Congressman Akslund, that's the old guy. The other fellow's some kind of local big shot, I guess. You ought to know him better than me." Local big shot. Mickey Groff looked thoughtfully at the door Chesbro and the congressman and the village elders had gone out through.