She now was sweeping almost directly down upon him. He heard
some call on the upper deck.
"They are going to run me down!" he gasped.
Phil threw all his strength into an effort to swim out of the
path of the swiftly moving boat, but he feared he would not be
able to clear her.
The lad uttered a loud shout, then dived deep, coming up at once
only to find himself almost against the side of the moving craft.
He grabbed frantically, hoping that his hands might come in
contact with some projection to which he could cling, but the
slippery sides of the hull slid past him at what seemed almost
express train speed.
He was almost on the point of diving again to get away from the
dangerous spot, when suddenly, his fingers closed over something.
It was a rope, one of the hawsers that had not been fully hauled
in when the boat left the last landing place some miles up
the river.
With a glad cry, both the lad's hands closed over the
precious rope. His joy was short lived. He found himself
dropping back, the river craft still gliding past him.
The rope was paying out over the boat's side in his hands.
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