Ida sat down again, and both of them watched him as he drew a little nearer.

So many times every minute his left arm swept out into the sunlight as he flung it forward with far-stretched palm.

It fell with the faintest splash, and there was a little puff of spray as his head dipped and the water washed across his lips.

Then the white limbs flashed amidst the green shining of the river, and the long, lithe form contracted, gleaming as a salmon gleams when it breaks the surface with the straining line.

The still river rippled, and a sun-bronzed face shot half-clear again.