Stooping down, he observed the same dull, white appearance that had caught his eye in the first place.

Beyond question this was caused by the sunlight striking the water from the outside.
"I could almost swear that a feller wouldn't have to go more than twenty feet before he'd strike daylight," mused Mickey, as he folded his arms and looked thoughtfully at the misty relief of the surrounding darkness; "and it would n't take much more to persuade me to make the dive and try it." As Mickey stood there, contemplating as best he could the darkly flowing stream, and debating the matter with himself, he was on the very eve of making the attempt fully half a dozen times.

It seemed to him that he could not fail, and yet there was something in the project which held him back.
The stream at that point flowed quite rapidly, and the strongest swimmer, after venturing a few feet under water, would be utterly unable to return.

Once started, there would be no turning back, so he concluded not to make the decisive trial just yet.
"The day is pretty nearly ended, and I will drame over it.

I told me laddy that that was my favorite way of getting out of such a scrape, and I'll thry it.