These thoughts raced through his mind as he floated on the surface of the river, trying to see something of the man who had been cast from the bridge. Farther and farther the current bore him, and still he peered across the dark bosom of the river in vain. “It is ended!” he gasped. “Rudge is at the bottom--dead before this!” Then he realized that his clothing was soaked, his feet felt like lead, and the current seemed trying to drag him down. “It would be an easy way to end it all!” was the mad thought that came to him. “Then they could not point at me with scorn. My friends would tell how I died trying to save the life of the proctor.” The temptation was powerful upon him--it was almost irresistible. How easy it would be to fold his hands upon his breast, stop struggling and sink. It would wipe out the stain in a measure. Then came the thought that it would be cowardly to end his life there in the river to escape. He would be abandoning his friends to their fate. They would live and be punished. If he lived, he might save them in a measure by telling the truth. That would be the only manly thing to do. He was doubly ashamed of himself because he had almost yielded to the temptation to do another cowardly thing. Never had he dreamed that he could feel so mean and contemptible. He started to swim toward the shore, but now he found that the current was strong, and he had been in the water so long that he was nearly exhausted. His clothes were heavy, and the shoes on his feet seemed made of lead. With all his strength he struck out. He would not give up. It was not for his own life he was struggling now, but he was determined to live and do all he could to take the blame of this terrible affair on his own shoulders. With his teeth set, he battled against the strength of the stream that tried to sweep him on. He fought his way toward the shore, but his progress was slow. Clank--clank! He looked up the river at the sound. Between him and a distant light that was reflected on the water shot a black object. It was a boat containing three persons. “Merriwell--where are you?” It was Jack Diamond’s voice! “Here--this way!” Weakly Frank answered. Not till he tried to cry out did he realize how very far gone he was. Then it seemed that, but for his friends who were coming to his rescue, there was not one chance in a hundred to reach the shore. They turned the boat toward him, but it did not seem that they could see him, for they called again and again. He answered and held his own against the current till they reached him. Strong hands reached down and grasped him, following which he was pulled over the bow and into the boat, where he dropped, quite beat out. Diamond was bending over him. “The proctor, where is he?” “Heaven knows!” answered Frank, with a heart-breaking sob. “He is drowned, and I am to blame for it all!”