Читать книгу With Sam Houston in Texas онлайн

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Now his feet dragged momentarily on a bar, but lost it. Once more he tried to dive. He must get out from under. He sank, turned in a ball, kicked and paddled and groped, pushed luckily with the soles of his feet against the opposite gunwale—and away he slid, scraping his back. He held his breath as long as he could; then out he popped, into sunshine and freedom!

Paddling, and drinking the open air, he blinked, dazzled, until he could gaze about. What good fortune that he had learned to swim! However, he saw nothing but the surface of the water, and the two shores, and the dug-out, bottom-side up and looking like a big narrow turtle. Above him the river curved widely, and around the curve was the steamboat, probably; but he was alone. Nobody had floated down with him.

He was nearer to the low shore than to the high, so he must have been carried diagonally by a cross current. His feet touched bottom again, and he started to wade, on tiptoe—when he suddenly bethought himself. He struck out for the boat, held to it with one hand and groped under it with the other, and hauled out the haversack. There might be something in it to wear or eat, if the water had not spoiled all the stuff. He felt somewhat like Robinson Crusoe; and pushing the heavy haversack he headed for the nearer shore.