“Get your head and shoulders through that noose, Miss Bronson,” he commanded. “Let it come under your arms. I will lift you out of the boat and swing you back and forth--there's none of you so heavy that I can't do this, and if you wet your feet a little, what's the odds?” “Oh, dear! I can never do that!” squealed one of the other girls. “Guess you'll have to do it if you don't want to stay here all night,” returned Lettie, promptly. “I see what you want, Hiram,” she added, and quickly adjusted the loop. “Now, when you swing out over the bank, Sister will grab you, and steady you. It will be all right if you have a care. Now!” cried Hiram. Lettie Bronson showed no fear at all as he drew her up and she swung out of the boat over the swiftly-running current. Hiram laid along the tree-trunk in an easy position, and began swinging the girl at the end of the rope, like a pendulum. The river bank being at least three feet higher than the surface of the water; he did not have to shift the rope again as he swung the girl back and forth. Sister, clinging with her left hand to the grapevine, leaned forward and clutched Lettie's hand. When she seized it, Sister backed away, and the swinging girl landed upright upon the bank. “Oh, that's fun!” Lettie cried, laughing, loosing herself from “the loop. Now you come, Mary Judson!” Thus encouraged they responded one by one, and even the girl who had broken down and cried agreed to be rescued by this simple means. The boatman then, after removing his shoes and stockings and rolling up his trousers, stepped out upon the sunken rock and pushed off the boat. But it was leaking badly. He dared not take aboard his passengers again, but turned around and went down stream as fast as he could go so as to beach the boat in a safe place. “Now how'll we get back to Scoville?” cried one of Lettie's friends. “I can never walk that far.” Sister had dropped back, shyly, behind Hiram, when he descended the tree. She had aided each girl ashore; but only Lettie had thanked her. Now she tugged at Hiram's sleeve. “Take 'em home in our wagon,” she whispered. “I can take you to Scoville--or to Miss Bronson's--in the farm wagon,” Hiram said, smiling. “You can sit on straw in the bottom and be comfortable.” “Oh, a straw ride!” cried Lettie. “What fun! And he can drive us right to St. Beris--And think what the other girls will say and how they'll stare!” The idea seemed a happy one to all the girls save the cry-baby, Myra Carroll. And her complaints were drowned in the laughter and chatter of the others. Hiram picked up the tools, Sister got the string of fish, and they set out for the Atterson farmhouse. Lettie chatted most of the way with Hiram; but to Sister, walking on the other side of the young farmer, the Western girl never said a word.