It was the flash of her white arm, as she sank for the second time, that saved her. Instinctively Stewart clutched at it, seized it, regained the box at a vigorous stroke, threw one arm across a handle, and raised her head above the water. Her face was white as death, her eyes were closed, she hung a dead weight upon his arm--and yet, Stewart told himself, she could not have drowned in so short a time. She had been under water only a few seconds. Perhaps she had been wounded--but he had heard no shot. His teeth chattered as he looked at her, she lay so still, so deathlike. And then he remembered that shrill scream of utter horror. Why had she screamed? What was it had wrung from her that terrible cry? Had some awful thing touched her, seized her, tried to drag her down? Shivering with fear, Stewart looked out across the water. Was there something lurking in those depths--some horror--some unthinkable monster---- He shook himself impatiently; he must not give way to his nerves. Holding her face back, he splashed some water into it, gently at first, then more violently. She was not dead--she had only fainted. A touch on her temple assured him that her heart was beating. He must have been unconsciously paddling against the current, for something touched him gently on the shoulder--a piece of driftwood, perhaps; and then he was suddenly conscious that it was not driftwood--that it was soft, hairy---- He spun around, to find himself staring down into a pair of unseeing eyes, set in a face so puffed and leprous as to be scarcely human. How he repressed the yell of terror that rose in his throat he never knew; but he _did_ repress it somehow, and creeping with horror, pushed the box quickly to one side. But the bloated body, caught in the swirl of his wake, turned and followed, with an appearance of malignant purpose which sent a chill up Stewart's spine. Kicking frenziedly, he held the box back against the current, and for an instant fancied that his hideous pursuer was holding back also. But, after what seemed like a moment's hesitation, it drifted on down the stream and vanished in the darkness. For a moment longer, Stewart stared after it, half-expecting it to reappear and bear down upon him. Then, with an anguished breath of relief, he stopped swimming and looked down at the face upon his arm. So that was the horror which had beset her. She had felt it nuzzling against her, had turned as he had done! No wonder she had screamed! He felt her bosom rise and fall with a quick gasp; then her eyes opened and gazed up at him. For an instant they gazed vacantly and wildly, then a flood of crimson swept from chin to brow, and she struggled to free herself from his encircling arm. "Easy now!" Stewart protested. "Are you sure you're all right? Are you sure you're strong enough to hold on?" "Yes, yes!" she panted. "Let me go!"