The horror of Fred and Pete when they saw the long legs of John just disappearing beneath the surface of the river may well be imagined. It was impossible for them to check the speed of the boat and equally impossible to change its course. Almost as helpless as if it had been a chip it was carried forward by the swift current. "He's going faster than we are," said Fred in a low voice as he discovered the head of his friend several yards in advance of the skiff. "Then he must be swimming," said Pete. "Is he a good swimmer?" "I never saw a better," replied Fred, not once turning away his eyes from the sight of John. "He has the Australian crawl and all the fancy strokes." "I don't know nothin' about them crawls," answered Pete, "but he's swimmin' like a duck. He'll reach that point below us long before we get there." The guide's surmise was correct for John was exerting himself strongly to gain a low point which he had seen in the distance and around which the swift waters of the current were swept forward. Before the conversation in the boat was renewed both the guide and Fred were aware that John had succeeded in his attempt. He had gained the low lying shore, but in his efforts to rise, although the water where he was standing did not come above his waist, he several times was thrown back into the stream and once nearly lost his foothold. However, at last the sturdy lad succeeded in gaining the shore. As soon as he had shaken the water from his head he turned to look in the direction from which the skiff was coming. The boat now was not more than one hundred feet away. "Come in here! Stop here!" shouted John in his loudest tones. Whether or not his words were heard he saw that his friends were doing their utmost to follow his directions. Still borne onward by the rushing current they nevertheless succeeded in gaining the outer edge and when the sharp bend around the point was made they came sufficiently near the shore to enable Pete with the painter in his hand to leap into the shallow water. Although the guide braced himself strongly and exerted all his strength, his attempt would have failed, if John, instantly aware of the predicament of his companion, had not leaped to his aid. While Pete was struggling and striving to regain a firm standing John seized the painter and as he was braced for the sudden strain he succeeded in checking the speed of the boat and drawing it within the more sheltered waters of the little bay. Meanwhile Pete had succeeded in grasping the gunwale of the skiff and promptly shouted, "Run her up on the beach, boys! One, two, three! Now then, all together!" By their united efforts they succeeded in bringing the boat up on the shore to a place where it was not in danger of being swept away by the swiftly flowing river.