THE GRIP OF THE YUKON.
The moments that followed were destined to be burned for his lifetime
into Tom's brain. Half choked, sputtering, blinded by spray and spume,
he found himself in the water with Sandy, completely exhausted by this
time, to care for as well as himself. The Scotch boy lay like a dead
burden on Tom's arm, and it was all that he could do to keep him
afloat and still keep his own head above water.
Suddenly something struck him on the back of the head. It was the
branch that had snapped off and cast them into the wild waters. But
Tom at that moment hailed it as an aid and caught hold of it with his
free arm. It was a large limb and to his delight he found that it kept
them afloat, aided by his skillful treading of water.
But barely had he time to rejoice in this discovery, when the roar of
the rapids ahead of them caused his brain to swim dizzily with fear.
He knew that in the center of the rapids was a comparatively wide,
smooth channel through which they had ascended that afternoon in the
_Yukon Rover_.
If the current shot them through this, there was still a chance that
they might live, slender though that hope appeared to be. But on
either side of this channel, if such it could be called, there uprose
rocks like black, jagged fangs in and amongst which the water boiled
and swirled and undersucked with the voice of a legion of witches. It
was into one of these maelstroms that poor Tom was confident they were
being borne.
Now the sound of the rapids grew louder. They roared and rumbled like
the noise of a giant spinning factory in full operation. The noise was
deafening and to Tom's excited ears it sounded like the shrill
laughter of malign fates. Suddenly something dragged at his legs. It
felt as if some monster of the river had risen from its depths and had
seized him.
But Tom knew it was no living creature. It was something far more
terrible,--the undertow.
He caught himself wondering if this were the end, as he was sucked
under and the water closed over his head with a roar like that of a
thousand cataracts.
His lungs seemed bursting, his ear drums felt as if an intolerable
weight was pressing in upon them. Tom was sure he could not have
lasted another second, when he was suddenly shot to the surface with
the same abruptness with which he had been drawn under.
Ahead of him were two rocks between which the pent up river rushed
like an express train. Tom had just time to observe this and figure in
a dull way that he and Sandy would be dragged through that narrow
passage to a miserable death, when something occurred that gave him
renewed hope.
In that terrible plunge under the water when the undertow had its way
with him, the boy, more by instinct than anything else, had retained
his grip upon the willow branch. As has been said, it was a thick
stick of timber and had parted under the leverage of the boys' double
weight near to the trunk.
What happened was this,--and Tom did not realize what had occurred
till some seconds later, so suddenly did his deliverance from what
appeared certain death come upon him. As the boys were being drawn in
between the two rocks the branch became twisted around, broadside to
the stream.
Before Tom knew what was taking place, and quite without effort on his
part, the stick of timber was caught across the two rocks, barring
Tom's progress further. The force of the current kept it there like a
barrier, while the water tugged and tore in vain at Tom and Sandy.
For some time after his deliverance, Tom was not capable of moving a
limb. But now he began to edge his way toward the rock which was
closest in to the shore.
It sloped down to the river, and on the side nearest to him had a
broad base which he thought would prove easy to climb. So it might
have been had he not been burdened with Sandy, but as it was, things
took on a different aspect and he was confronted with a task of more
difficulty than he had anticipated.
By slow and laborious steps he managed to secure a foothold on the
rock and to reach a position where he could draw Sandy up beside him.
When he had done this, Tom, almost exhausted, sank back on the smooth
stone surface, and while the river raced by almost at his feet gave
thanks to Providence for their wonderful delivery from the jaws of the
rapids.
For some time he reclined, thus getting back his strength and
examining Sandy's injury, which appeared to be only a flesh wound. The
immersion in the cold water and the amount of it he had swallowed was
probably more to blame for his collapse than the wound. Tom bathed the
cut and was presently rewarded by seeing Sandy open his eyes.
The Scotch boy pluckily declared that he felt all right except for a
slight dizziness.
"Well, rest up a while," said Tom. "We've done a whole lot, but
there's a heap more to be accomplished."
While Sandy got together his exhausted faculties, Tom made a survey of
their situation. What he saw did not encourage him much. Toward the
stream were swirling pools and jagged rocks. Shoreward, the rocks
extended in a line which, although broken here and there by water ways
through which eddies bubbled tempestuously, he yet thought might be
capable of being bridged. He was pretty sure, in fact, that he could
manage the passage, but of Sandy he was by no means so certain. It
required a cool head and a steady nerve to negotiate the course to
safety that Tom had mapped out as being the only one available.
Manifestly the longer they stayed where they were, the more time they
were wasting. It would be impossible for a boat to reach them where
they were marooned, and the only course was to attempt to reach the
shore. Tom explained the case to Sandy and the Scotch boy declared
that he felt strong enough to attempt the feat.
With Tom in the lead they set out. It was fully a hundred yards to the
shore, and a slippery, dangerous causeway that they had to traverse.
But although once or twice Sandy was within an inch of losing his
nerve and the passage was marked by many slips and halts, yet in time
they gained the margin of the stream and drew long breaths as they
attained safety under the big pines that fringed it almost to its
edge.
There followed a short rest and then they set off up the bank, eying
the stream for the small boat from the _Yukon Rover_ which they felt
certain would be sent out. Sure enough, before long, a glad shout from
Tom announced that he had sighted the little craft. At the same
instant, Jack and Mr. Dacre, who manned it, caught sight of the two
lads on the shore. They lost no time in pulling toward them, and in a
very short time the reunited adventurers were warmly shaking hands and
listening to Tom's recital of their thrilling escape from a terrible
death in the rapids.
The adventurous lives the Bungalow Boys had led, made them disinclined
to dwell upon the details of the occurrence, but in their hearts there
was a feeling of deep gratitude to the Providence that had intervened
and saved them from one of the most perilous positions in which they
had ever been placed.