But at
last Frank landed, with considerable of a shock, to be sure, but
free of serious injury. His first thought was of his companions,
and especially of Bart.
By great good fortune, Frank had landed clear of a river, although
within a hundred feet of the bank. Looking in that direction, he
was horrified to see Bart in the water, struggling amid the
envelope and ropes of the parachute. He was so badly entangled
that it was almost impossible for him to swim, and already his
efforts were growing weaker.
Leaping to his feet, Frank rushed toward the stream, calling words
of encouragement to his friend as he went.
"Hold up, Bart!" he yelled, "I'll be with you in a minute."
Reaching the river bank, he paused only long enough to kick off
his shoes, and then plunged in to the rescue of his friend. With
powerful strokes he plowed through the water, and was soon
alongside Bart, who by this time was in sore straits. Frank drew
his knife, and with a few swift strokes cut away the wreckage of
the parachute in which Bart was entangled.
"Thanks, old man," gasped the latter. "You came just in the nick
of time, this time.
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