He looked so pale and
weak and thin that I wondered if he could possibly be thinking of
going into that cold water at that time of evening and _alone_!
I had not long to be in doubt about it, for straight out on the
platform he went and then _on the spring-board_! He lifted his arms
above his head and pointed his hands together as a man going to dive.
The man looked so weak and thin that I felt positive he would not be
able to swim in that water, so chilled by the mountain springs that
fed it. I wondered if he knew how cold it was and how weak he was.
Should I run the risk of "butting in," and warn him? Suppose I did not
and he should begin to sink, could I jump in that fifteen-foot water
with my clothes on and save him? These thoughts flashed rapidly
through my mind, but in the twinkling of an eye he was off the
spring-board, head downward into the water.
I held my breath and waited for him to rise. It seemed he had gone to
the bottom and stuck there; the water became actually smooth again,
and almost still, where he had disappeared. I thought he would never
come up. My heart jumped into my throat.
Then he came up--very near where he had gone down--and faintly struck
out swimming. I thought of course he would at once make for the piers
of the platform; surely a fellow swimming as weakly as that, all
alone, and in water cold and deep, would not risk himself far from
shore.
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