“I reckon Sam is having his hands full,” he thought.  “I must get Tom to the shore alone.  But it is going to be a tough job, I can see that.”

“Oh, Dick!” came from Tom.  “My head is spinning like a top!”

“The tree hit you, Tom.  But do keep quiet, and I’ll take care of you,”

“I can’t swim —­ I feel like a wet rag through and through.”

“Never mind about swimming.  Only don’t catch me by the throat again, and we’ll be all right,” was Dick’s reassuring reply, and as his brother became more passive he struck out for the bank upon which the thief had landed.

The current carried them on and on, but not so swiftly as it was carrying the tree.  Soon they were approaching the bend.  Dick was swimming manfully, but was now all but exhausted.

“You can’t make it, Dick,” groaned Tom.  “Better save yourself.”

“And let you go?  No indeed, Tom.  I have a little strength left and —­ Hurrah, I’ve struck bottom!”

Dick was right:  his feet had landed on a sandbar; and, standing up, both boys found the water only to their armpits.  Under such circumstances they waded ashore with case, and here threw themselves down to rest.

“That thief is gone,” said Dick dismally.

“And my watch too!”

“But where is Sam?” questioned Tom, then looked at his brother meaningfully.

“The Humpback Fall!” came from Dick.  “Sam!  Sam!” he yelled; “look out I where you are going!”

But no answer came back to his cry, for Sam had long since floated out of hearing.

CHAPTER III

SAMS ADVENTURE AT HUMPBACK FALLS

For several minutes after Dick leaped overboard to Tom’s assistance, Sam’s one thought was of his two brothers.  Would they reach the tree or the shore in safety?  Fervently he prayed they would.

The tree went around and around, as a side current caught it, and presently the whirlings became so rapid that Sam grew dizzy, and had to hold tight to keep from falling off.

He saw Dick catch Tom from the back and start for shore, and then like a flash the realization of his own situation dawned upon him.  He was on the tree with no means of guiding his improvised craft, and sweeping nearer and nearer to the rapids of which he had heard so much but really knew so little.

“I must get this tree to the river bank,” he, said to himself, and looked around for some limb which might be cut off and used for a pole.

But no such limb was handy, and even had there been there would have been no time in which to prepare it for use, for the rapids were now in plain sight, the water boiling and foaming as it darted over one rock and another, in a descent of thirty feet in forty yards.

“This won’t do!” muttered the boy, and wondered if it would not be best to leap overboard and try to swim to safety.  But one look at that swirling current made him draw back.