Bob Dunbar was unfastening his shoes. From the shore came the patter of applause, and he glanced up, hoping for one wild moment that it might be for Stewart's appearance. But it was Floyd Halket's head emerging a half-dozen yards beyond the other swimmers that had drawn the applause. Bob Dunbar stood up in the stern and dove overboard. And at that there was another cheer from the crowd and a ripple of laughter; they appreciated the judge's dive, in his white trousers and pink shirt, as a clownish jest, the climax to the afternoon's entertainment, and they were amused.
"Mr. Halket!" The cry came sharp and imploring from the girl's lips.
Just then her cousin emerged gasping; he caught his breath. "Halket! Jack! Stewart Lee's gone down!"
He seized the gunwale of the boat; Floyd Halket was swimming up with powerful overhand strokes; Jack Folsom was already clambering in over the stern.
"There—right where the oar touches," said Lydia; she had taken her cousin's seat and was holding the oars.
Her voice quivered and hurried upon the last words, and there was no longer any light or color in her face; the strands of hair blown about it by the breeze made it seem all the more stark and desolate. But she was trying to keep the boat steady, even while her eyes marked the spot where Stewart had gone down.
Jack Folsom sprang from the thwart, drenching her with the splash; instantly Floyd Halket crawled aboard and stood up ready to follow. And now there was a confused outcry from the people on shore, who after the first laughter had stood in puzzled silence. From some one came a loud shout, "What's happened?" Then fell the stillness of suspense; and when there was no answer, the cry broke from many voices, imperious and insistent. Another rowboat was drawing near. Bob Dunbar crawled in beside Lydia and caught up the mega-
