The man shook his head forbiddingly. To attempt to cross the river would be running a frightful risk. “There goes a gun again.” It required no longer an effort of the imagination to hear it. It was a fact and with all the terror that reality possesses, the prisoner shuddered, his restless eyeballs full of fear rolling wildly. The sheriff tried to collect his startled thoughts and resist the strange certainty which possessed him. His own frame felt the shudder that convulsed the form behind him. “Well!” he asked, once more addressing his deputy, “what say you?” “We’ll take the danger before us,” the other answered and, touching their horses, they plunged in. Half way across, the sheriff convulsively seized his horse’s neck for he could not swim. He was struggling desperately against the waves, clinging frantically around the neck of his swimming horse, when he heard a cry: “Great God, he’s gone!” and turning to look behind him, he saw that the negro had disappeared into the water. All eyes turned toward the spot where the manacled wretch had gone down. The drowning man arose to the surface a dizzy moment then sank again as quickly. Not a cry, not a word could be heard. The river went on booming heavily, its hoarse roar rising to a deafening intensity. The chief deputy, meanwhile, had managed to slip from his horse and float down stream, and with a violent swinging movement he succeeded in thrusting one arm between the negro’s handcuffed ones and sustaining him, just as he rose for the last time. Supporting him against his horse an instant he tightened his hold, that he might keep both heads above water. He was taking desperate chances against tremendous odds. With an indescribable feeling, the sheriff looked on but could render no assistance. The swimmer fought hard, but, after pulling some distance, it seemed clear that he had miscalculated his strength. Inch by inch, the two swept downward, notwithstanding the almost superhuman efforts of the desperate deputy. Gradually his stroke became more feeble and he saw the gap between them and the bank grow wider, the lost inches grew to feet, the feet to yards, and finally with utter despair, he thought the whole world had turned to water. He felt terrified. Exhaustion could be distinguished in all his limbs and his arms felt miserably dragged. He was going, not forward, but round and round, and with dizziness came unconsciousness. The next thing he remembered was an awful stiffness in every joint and muscle, a scent of whiskey, and the sheriff kneeling beside him upon the wet ground, forcing the warm liquid through his lips. As he gazed about him, he slowly asked: “Did that d----d nigger die after all?” The sheriff had not time to tell him that the negro was safe, for the next minute there came a volley of yells and sounds of oaths with the dull thunder of rapidly advancing hoofbeats, and before either man could speak again, a party of armed riders reined up in front of the ford.