“Goody! This is almost too much luck,” cried Betty exultantly. “You get in the stern, Amy, and Grace in the bow. Mollie and I will do the rowing.” “I only hope the old thing doesn’t take in too much water,” said Amy, as she and Grace got gingerly into the rickety old craft and Betty and Mollie pushed it off from the shore. “That remains to be seen,” answered the Little Captain as she handed one of the ancient oars to Mollie. “There is one thing we shall have to remember, Mollie,” she said, as they pushed clear of the bank and glided out into the swift water of the river, “and that is to keep far enough this side of the falls to guard against being swept over it. Bear hard on your right hand, Mollie honey. It wouldn’t be much fun if we upset here, you know.” “Oh!” gasped Grace, holding fast to the side of the boat and noting with dismay how plainly the roar of the falls came to them. “I wish we had another oar, I’d help!” “You can help most, Gracie,” cut in the Little Captain briskly, “by keeping your nerve and helping us to keep ours. Mollie,” she called in a whisper that carried the length of the boat, “can you see! It! yet?” “Yes,” Mollie telegraphed back in the same tense whisper. “It’s got its back to us, I think.” “Good,” said Betty softly, adding as she threw all her weight against her oar, “now let’s keep still and work.” It was queer how they referred to that presence at the head of the falls as “It.” Some way, in the weird moonlight, under the more than unusual circumstances, it seemed almost impossible to give the thing a name. “Was it Professor Dempsey?” they kept asking themselves over and over again. But he had committed suicide. Or at least they had seen him fall into the river, and they could have vowed that he did not come out again. They had searched both sides of the river. How could they have missed him? And yet, if that motionless figure at the head of the falls was really Professor Dempsey, he must have been washed ashore that day and evaded them as he had succeeded in evading them so many times before. And all the time the roar of the falls was growing louder and louder in their ears and they knew that theirs was a race with life and death. Could they succeed in reaching the opposite bank before the deadly current of the river should suck them over the falls; to almost certain annihilation? The answer to the question came a moment later when, without warning, the prow of the little boat struck on an unexpected projection of the shore and they came to a standstill. “Thank heaven!” said Betty under her breath as Mollie jumped out and pulled the craft further in to shore. “That was nearly the riskiest thing you ever did, Betty Nelson.” Once on shore again, the girls’ confidence returned and they hurried silently through the woods toward the spot where they had seen the figure. Then Betty, who had taken the lead, suddenly motioned to them to stop.