"Take the oars!" he directed the helpless Dave, at the same time
stumbling to the bow of the boat and jerking off shoes, shirt and
trousers. Diving seemed a hopeless undertaking, but there was little
else to do. Again and again he plunged under, coming up each time
nearly spent but desperately determined to try again. Two boats put
out from the mill side of the river, capable Mr. Aikens in one of
them. A grappling hook trailing from the stern of the boat told that
such accidents as this were not unusual in treacherous Plum Run.

Then began a search that exhausted their every resource. The ill
word had speedily gone around among the nearer houses, and in the
course of an hour a great crowd of men appeared from Watertown
itself. The water was black with boats and alive with diving bodies.
Hastily constructed grappling hooks raked the narrow stream from
side to side. A big seine was even commandeered from a houseboat up
the river and dragged back and forth across the rough river bed till
the men were worn out.

But all to no avail. Every now and then a shout of discovery went
up, but the booty of the grappling hooks invariably proved to be
only watersoaked logs or mud-filled wreckage. Once they were all
electrified at a black-haired body dislodged by a clam-rake, that
came heavily to the surface and then sank, to be the subject of ten
minutes frantic dragging, only to be finally revealed as the body of
an unfortunate dog.

It was heart-breaking work, and the tension was not lessened with
the appearance on the scene of Mr. Fulton, Tod's father. He said
nothing, but his hopeless silence was more depressing than any words