“Hold on a bit longer, Mr. Lamont,” said Dorian; but it was doubtful whether the injured man understood.  He glared at his rescuer with unseeing eyes.  Part of the automobile was already being moved by the force of the stream, and there was danger that the whole car, together with the injured man, would be swept down the stream.  Dorian, while clinging to the slippery rocks, tried to pull the man away, but he was so firmly pinned under the wreck that he could not be moved.  Dorian then shouted to his companion on the bank to bring the rope and come to his assistance; but even while it was being done, a great rush of water lifted the broken car out into the stream.  Lamont was released, but he was helpless to prevent the current from sweeping him along.

Dorian reached for the man, but missed him and stepped into a deep place.  He went in to his arms, but he soon scrambled on to a shallower point where he regained his balance.  The unconscious Lamont was beginning to drift into the current and Dorian knew that if he was to be saved he must be prevented from getting into the grasp of the mid-stream.  Dorian took desperate chances himself, but his mind was clear and his nerves were steady as he waded out into the water.  His companion shouted a warning to him from the bank, but he heeded it not.  Lamont’s body was moving more rapidly, so Dorian plunged after it, and by so doing got beyond wading depths.  He did not mind that as he was a good swimmer, and apparently, Mr. Lamont was too far gone to give any dangerous death grip.  Dorian got a good hold of the man’s long hair and with the free arm he managed to direct them both to a stiller pool lower down where by the aid of his companion, he pulled Lamont out of the water and laid him on the bank.  He appeared to be dead, but the two worked over him for some time.  No other help appeared, so once more they tried all the means at their command to resuscitate the drowned.

“I think he’s gone,” said Dorian’s companion.

“It seems so.  He’s received some internal injury.  He was not drowned.”

“Who is he, I wonder.”

“His name is Jack Lamont.”

“Do you know him?”

“I know him.  Yes; let’s carry him up the bank.  We’ll have to notify somebody.”

The man was dead when he was laid on the soft warm grass.  Dorian covered the lifeless form with his own coat.

“I’ll stay here,” suggested Dorian’s companion, “while you go and telephone the police station in the city.  Then you go right on home and get into some dry clothes.”

Dorian did as he was told.  After reaching the nearest telephone, and delivering his message, he went on home and explained to his mother what had happened.  Then he changed his clothes.

“What a terrible thing!” exclaimed his mother.  “And you also might have been drowned.”

“Oh, no; I was all right.  I knew just what I could do.  But the poor fellow.  I—­I wish I could have saved him.  It might have been a double salvation for him.”