JACK'S DANGEROUS POSITION
Meanwhile how had Jack fared?
His last cry for help had been cut short by his plunge into the river.
With his hands still bound tightly behind him, he felt himself sink many
feet, and then a few seconds later he regained the surface, and shook
the water from his face. He found that the swiftly flowing tide had
carried him several rods from the old mill, and well out toward
mid-stream.
"I'm surely lost!" he said to himself with a shudder. "The falls are
not more than a quarter of a mile below, and when I reach there----"
A shiver finished the sentence. In time past he had heard of several
persons being carried over, and not one had lived to tell the story.
What hope was there then for him?
He remembered that half way to the falls the stream narrowed
considerably where the tide rushed with a roar that was deafening, and
there were several huge rocks. Perhaps, if he could gain one of these,
when morning came he might devise some means of escape.
He tried his best to slip off the cord from his wrists, which was the
same cord that had been fastened to his feet, and which now dragged a
considerable distance behind him. But the hemp was water soaked, and
cut into his flesh until it bled.
On and on he was carried. It seemed that every instant the speed
increased. It was useless to cry out--no one was near, even if indeed,
his voice should reach the shore. His mind was filled with countless
anxious thoughts. What would his friends think of his absence? What
would Mont say? What would Deb do if he was lost?
Thinking of his dear sister was more painful than aught else, and he
uttered a sincere prayer that his life might be spared, for her sake, if
not for his own.
Presently, through the gloom came the noise of the water as it washed
over and around the rocks below.
He lifted his head as high as possible, and strained his eyes to get a
view of the situation, but water and foam were alone in sight.
Nearer and nearer he was now drawing. The water bubbled all around.
Then like a flash a black object loomed to the right.
He struggled with all his power to gain it. Kicking and plunging, his
side struck a rock.
He tried to grasp it, but it slipped. Another and still another passed.
The water surged on all sides.
Suddenly his feet touched bottom. He threw himself with all his force
against the current.
"Now or never!" were his thoughts. "For home and Deb!"
He flung his body to one side where a sharp rock stuck out of the water
but a few inches, and, half turning, he threw his arm partly over it.
His feet were swept from under him, and as the cord upon his wrists
still refused to part, his shoulder was nearly dislocated by the strain
that was thus brought to bear.
Beside the sharp rock was another, and drawing a long breath, he
gradually worked his way until he lay flat upon its surface.
This new resting place was not more than seven feet in length by three
in width, yet to Jack it seemed a perfect island, so much more
preferable was it to the cold water of the stream.
The young machinist lay quiet for a long time.
He was utterly exhausted, and it was no easy task to recover the wind
that had been knocked out of him.
After a while, he turned over and sat up. He was afraid to try
standing, fearful of losing his footing.
In the semi-darkness he calculated that the rocks leading to either
shore were fully fifteen or twenty feet away--a distance which, in such
a place as this, was as bad as a mile, so far as reaching them was
concerned.
"If it was only a little lighter I might throw out the rope and catch
fast somewhere," he said to himself. "As it is, I suppose I'll have to
wait till morning."
But waiting was far from agreeable. Had he been sure of eventually
escaping, it would have been different, but the doubt of this rendered
his mind extremely uneasy.
Nearly an hour passed. It grew darker, and one by one the stars came
out.
Ceaselessly the water tumbled and roared, as if it knew not the meaning
of rest.
As we know, he had had but little sleep the night before, and now he was
fagged out. Several times his eyes closed and his head nodded, but he
always came to his senses.
"It will never do to go to sleep here?" he exclaimed. "Guess I'll try
shouting. It will keep me awake, if nothing else."
He used his lungs to their full capacity, yet his voice was no stronger
than the bleating of a lamb in a hurricane.
"No one will ever hear me," was his dismal comment, and then he stopped.
Another hour slowly passed.
To Jack it seemed like an age. He was getting benumbed by the cold
water, and his limbs were stiff and sore. How long would it last? How
long could it last?
Another hour!
It must surely be morning soon--he had been there certainly a full night
already. Why didn't it grow light?
His eyes closed for a moment--more from exhaustion than sleep--and then
they closed again.
Why, what was this?
Here he was safe at home! There was the supper table waiting, and Deb,
in her neat, white apron, pouring out the tea! Now they sat down
together and began to eat, when, hold up--there was a fire somewhere.
Was it in their home? Yes, it must be for the fireman was at the window
with a hose--and it was Mr. Gray! The water struck Jack in the ear.
"Help! help! I----"
The young machinist awoke in horror. He had slipped from the rock, and
was again being madly whirled down the stream!
Oh! the agony of that moment! Why had he allowed himself to fall
asleep?
Nothing but certain death now stared him in the face!
In the dim dawn he looked ahead and saw the line of white that marked
the last of the breakwater above the awful descent.
"I'm gone, sure!" he sighed. "Good-by to home and Deb!"
On he swept with ever-increasing speed. The lofty brink was only a
hundred feet away--now it was seventy-five--now fifty!
With a terrible cry he flung himself back, as if to ward off that which
was inevitable.
Stop--what was this? The cord that was dragging behind him tightened;
it grew tighter still--it stopped his progress!
"If it only holds!" was his one thought.
He waited, and looked back to see how the hemp had become fastened, but
the surface of the water was without a break.
It held, and as it gradually tightened more and more, there slowly arose
to the top, the limb of a huge tree that had probably been carried down
the stream by the spring freshet.
The knot at the end of the rope had dragged itself fast in a notch
between two of the smaller branches, and before it could loose itself,
Jack caught the larger branch, and locked his feet tightly around it.
His weight threw the tree still more on its side, and this placed him
high and dry several feet above the surface, and about a rod above the
falls!
The position was a terrifying one. It made him dizzy to look at the
boiling water as it fell, and the vortex below was awful to contemplate.
"I suppose this tree won't stick fast forever," he thought, "and even if
it does, how can I ever hope to reach shore from here?"
How long he remained in this trying position, with life on one side, and
death on the other, Jack never knew. He clung fast as never before, and
to secure himself still further, tied the rope fast to the tree and to
his own body.
It was now broad daylight. Surely some one passing on either shore
would see and assist him.
But hour after hour dragged along, and no one came. It was getting
toward noon, and the sun sent a glare all over the sparkling water.
What was this dark object that was floating so rapidly toward him?
A man!
The young machinist uttered an exclamation. The body came within his
reach, and leaning over, he stayed its progress.
[Illustration: THE BODY CAME WITHIN HIS REACH, AND LEANING OVER, HE
STAYED ITS PROGRESS]
The form was limp and motionless, the eyes closed.
Jack turned it over.
"Mont Gray!" he shrieked. "Oh, Mont, Mont, are you dead?"