Phil Forrest was never more cool in his life, but he now began
to realize the well-nigh hopeless position in which be found
himself placed.
Suddenly the rope ceased paying out with an abruptness that
jerked him clear out of the water. He fell back with a splash,
all but losing hold of the rope as he did so.
"I've got it! I've got it!" exulted the lad. A rush of water
filled his mouth, almost suffocating him.
"I guess I had better keep my mouth closed," thought the boy.
He was directly astern of the steamboat by this time, and this
placed him in a much more favorable position than he had been
while dragging along at the side.
Phil began resolutely to work himself along the rope hand
over hand. It was a desperate undertaking, one calling for
strength and courage of an unusual kind, but he never hesitated.
His breath came in long, steady, sighs, for he was going though
the water at such a rate of speed that breathing was made
doubly difficult.
"It is a good thing I am a circus performer. I should probably
have been at the bottom of the river long ago, had I not been a
ring man.
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