Kendall, clutching the cork-filled cushion, hesitated, but another glance at the towering black shadow almost against them decided him. Harry was already in the water. Gerald, poised on the combing, cried to him again, and so, holding the cushion to his breast, Kendall leaped. He felt the water close over him, heard its surge in his ears. Then, fighting for breath, choked by the water he had swallowed, he found himself afloat, buoyed up by the cushion. Instinctively he worked his legs as he had seen swimmers do, striving to win out of the path of the steamer. A voice called near at hand.