He kicked off his shoes, tore off his clothes, dived head foremost into
the lake, and with long, powerful strokes headed for the farther shore.

He had an almost amphibious love for the water and the task he had set
for himself was easy. But his fear for Bert and his impatience at the
delay before he could help him made it seem to him as though he were
going at a snail's pace, although in reality he was cleaving the water
like a fish.

Bert, looking out from his perch in the tree, suddenly had his attention
attracted by something on the smooth surface. He thought at first that
it was a water fowl. Then he looked more closely, and his heart gave a
great bound as he recognized that it was one of his comrades, although he
could not tell which one at that distance. He saw that the swimmer was
headed straight for the canoe, and he surmised the plan in an instant.

"Good old Dick and Tom," he exulted to himself. "They're two pals in a
thousand. I knew they'd get me out of this or die in the trying."

But the bear, too, seemed to realize that something was happening. His
scent was phenomenally keen, and the wind was blowing directly toward
him from the lake. He sniffed the air for a moment and then, with a
threatening growl, looked toward the water. Then he rose slowly and
backed in that direction, still keeping an eye on Bert.

The latter took alarm at once. Here was a new complication. If the bear
should discover the swimmer, who was now nearing the shore, it might be
fatal. At all events his attention must be distracted.