His mettle was up, he was not the Reverend
William Rufus Holly, missionary, but Billy Rufus, the champion cricketer,
the sportsman playing a long game.
Silver Tassel reached the boy, who was bruised and bleeding and at his
last gasp, and throwing an arm round him, struck out for the shore. The
current was very strong, and he battled fiercely as Billy Rufus, not far
above, moved down toward them at an angle. For a few yards Silver Tassel
was going strong, then his pace slackened, he seemed to sink lower in the
water, and his stroke became splashing and irregular. Suddenly he struck
a rock, which bruised him badly, and, swerving from his course, he lost
his stroke and let go the boy.
By this time the mikonaree had swept beyond them, and he caught the boy
by his long hair as he was being swept below. Striking out for the shore,
he swam with bold, strong strokes, his judgment guiding him well past
rocks beneath the surface. Ten feet from shore he heard a cry of alarm
from above. It concerned Silver Tassel, he knew, but he could not look
round yet.
In another moment the boy was dragged up the bank by strong hands, and
Billy Rufus swung round in the water towards Silver Tassel, who, in his
confused energy, had struck another rock, and, exhausted now, was being
swept towards the rapids.
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