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London, Jack, 1876-1916

"On the Makaloa Mat"


He came up, spluttered, spread-eagled on the surface, and had his
knotted calf gripped by the strong fingers of both Ida's small
hands.
"It's all right," she said, while she worked. "No cramp like this
lasts very long."
"I didn't know it could be so savage," he groaned. "If only it
doesn't go higher! It makes one feel so helpless."
He gripped the biceps of both her arms in a sudden spasm,
attempting to climb out upon her as a drowning man might try to
climb out on an oar and sinking her down under him. In the
struggle under water, before he permitted her to wrench clear, her
rubber cap was torn off, and her hairpins pulled out, so that she
came up gasping for air and half-blinded by her wet-clinging hair.
Also, he was certain he had surprised her into taking in a quantity
of water.
"Keep away!" he warned, as he spread-eagled with acted
desperateness.
But her fingers were deep into the honest pain-wrack of his calf,
and in her he could observe no reluctance of fear.
"It's creeping up," he grunted through tight teeth, the grunt
itself a half-controlled groan.


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