The great lock
concerns often sent for him to test new inventions, and invariably he
could point to any flaw in the constructions of them that existed. As he
came to manhood his knowledge had grown apace until to many he seemed a
veritable sorcerer.
It was by a trick known only to himself that he had been able to
extricate himself from his desperate plight at the river's bottom. True,
his flesh was lacerated. True, he was on the verge of total collapse.
But he lived.
He made his way slowly toward the dock and was resting against one of
the piles when he heard a faint cry. He strained his ears to locate the
direction whence it came. Once again that feeble call floated across the
water, and in it there sounded something vaguely familiar.
He was more rested now and he swam farther under the dock. Again came
the cry. With a thrill now he recognized the voice.
"Eva!" he called, again and again.
"Here I am," came back the echo.
With a powerful stroke he breasted the current and in a moment he was
supporting her half-fainting body. Precarious though their position was,
Locke felt the thrill of her words.
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