The chance came, for Hughie, leading the "tag," came flying past Tom and toward the water.

Hardly realizing what he was doing, Tom stuck out his foot and caught him flying past, and before any one knew how it had happened, poor Hughie shot far out into the Deepole, lighting fair on his stomach.
There was a great shout of laughter, but in a moment every one was calling, "Swim, Hughie!" "Keep your hands down!" "Don't splash like that, you fool!" "Paddle underneath!" But Hughie was far too excited or too stunned by his fall to do anything but splash and sputter, and sink, and rise again, only to sink once more.

In a few moments the affair became serious.
The small boys began to cry, and some of the bigger ones to undress, when there was a cry from the elm-tree overhanging the water.
"Run out that board, Don.

Quick!" It was Ranald, who had been swinging up in the highest branches, and had seen what had happened, and was coming down from limb to limb like a squirrel.

As he spoke, he dropped from the lowest limb into the water close to where Hughie was splashing wildly.
In an instant, as he rose to the surface, Hughie's arms went round his neck and pulled his head under water.