the slightest degree checking his progress.

Tad realized the danger perhaps more fully than did the others. In
the darkness the lad might slip into one of the treacherous river
pockets and drown before they could reach him.

Grasping his rope which lay beside his cot. Tad sprang to the top of
the bluff, swinging the loop of his lariat above his head as he ran.

He could faintly make out the figure of his companion rolling down
the steep bank.

"Hold up your hand so I can drop the rope over you," shouted Tad, at
the same time making a skillful cast.

His aim was true. The rawhide reached the mark. Chunky, however,
feeling it slap him smartly on the cheek, brushed the rope aside in
his excitement, not realizing what it was that had struck him.

"Grab it!" roared Tad, observing that he had failed to rope the lad.

With a mighty splash, Stacy Brown plunged into the stream broadside
on.

"He's in! I heard him strike!" cried Walter.

With a warning cry to the others to bring lights, Tad, without an
instant's hesitation, leaped over the bluff and went shooting down
it in a sitting posture.