"Master Stacy, you will get up at once!" commanded the Professor
sternly.

"I can't," wailed the fat boy.

"Then I'll help you," decided the Professor firmly, striding toward
the spot where he had last heard the lad's voice.

"Look out for the river!" warned Tad, as the thought of what was
below the boy suddenly occurred to him.

"Help, help! I'm rolling in," cried Stacy.

"There he goes, down the bank! Grab him!" shouted Walter.

"Where?" demanded Ned, not fully grasping the import of the warning.

"There, there! Don't you see him? Right in front of you. He's going
to fall into the river!"

Stacy had forgotten that they were encamped on the east shore of the
fork and that the broad stream was flowing rapidly along just below
him. The banks at that point were high and precipitous, the water
almost icy cold, being fresh from the clear mountain streams a few
miles above. In spots it was deep and treacherous.

Frantically grasping at weeds and slender sprouts, as he rolled down
the almost perpendicular bluff, Stacy yelled lustily for help. From
the soft, sandy soil the weeds came away in his hands, without in