A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.
The partly sunken log crashed into the side of the canoe with such
suddenness that the craft was overturned and ruined, and the occupants
struggling in the water, before either had time to utter more than a
single exclamation.
But they were powerful swimmers, and, but for the nearness of the
rapids, they could have afforded to laugh at their mishap. As it was,
Terry Clark shouted, as he blew the muddy water from his mouth:
"What a sinsible young gintleman I was to lave me gun on the other
side."
"We both would have been much more sensible had we left ourselves
there," rejoined Fred, who was struggling with might and main for the
land in front; "there's no time, Terry, to waste in talk; we've got to
swim as never before, for nothing else will save us."
The other seemed to rouse to his peril, for he made the only wise
response he could--which was putting forth every atom of strength and
skill that he possessed in the effort to breast the furious torrent.
It is singular how often the slightest advantage turns the scale for
life or death. At the moment the canoe was smashed and capsized Terry
Clark was seated some six or eight feet nearer the shore toward which
they were paddling than was Fred Linden, and this difference remained
when the two went into the water and began swimming. The Irish lad was
fully as skillful as the other, and he did not lose an inch of the gain
thus given him.
They were near the middle of the stream when the catastrophe took place.
Of course they would have done better had they been without any
clothing, but there was no time to remove any of that, and beyond
question the two made the most gallant kind of a fight for life.
Fully aroused to his peril, Terry swam with amazing power, his lips
compressed and his eyes fixed on the land in front, which seemed quite
near, and yet was never so hard to reach. The lad had proven by repeated
tests that he could swim faster on his left side then in any other
position. He quickly flung himself over and used his arms and legs like
one who knew fully the stake for which he was contending.
By this recourse he actually gained on Fred, who continued to breast the
water with all the strength at his command. Terry was hopeful, and now
that he was fully roused, he did not waste his strength in shouting to
his companion. As he advanced in his crab-like fashion, he frequently
flirted his face around so as to look in front, and thus to keep aware
of his progress.
"I'm doing well, and will make it," was his thought; "I hope Fred will
be as fortynate as mesilf."
An important point was gained by swimming on his left side; his face was
turned up stream, and he caught sight of the floating timber quicker
than when advancing with his face toward the land. Thus it came about
that he saw a plunging tree, or log, similar to that which had
destroyed the canoe, and when it was fully as close to him.
Like a flash, Terry dove, intending to pass clean under it. He could not
know any thing about the portion beneath the surface, and was a little
startled when he found himself among leaves and a lot of small branches;
but he swam with the same vigor and skill when below as when above the
surface, and quickly fought his way through, rising on the other side a
considerable distance nearer land.
But he gasped with terror, for during the brief period he lost a great
deal more than he gained. A furtive glance to the left showed him the
mist and spray flying high in air, as the muddy waters were tossed to
and fro by the rocks below: he was fearfully close to them.
But he was also close to land, and he saw his chance; indeed, his only
one. A tree growing out toward the creek curved downward so that the
lower part of the trunk was within a few inches of the water. A short
time before the current had washed against it, but was now falling away
from it.
The portion which inclined downward like a bow was several feet from
shore, and some distance below him. It will be seen, therefore, that the
thing for him to do was to bend all his efforts toward reaching that. If
he could advance far enough to allow the current to sweep him beneath,
or quite close to the tree, he could grasp it and save himself.
"That's what's got to be done," was his conclusion the instant he saw
the crooked tree; "or it's good-by to Terry Clark and his rifle."
He would succeed; he saw it the next moment. The curving tree seemed to
be sweeping up stream with frightful swiftness, but at the right second
Terry, by a supreme effort, threw himself partly out of the water, and
flinging both arms around the trunk, which was no more than six inches
in diameter, he held fast.
The strain was great, and he felt his fingers slipping over the shaggy
bark, but he held on like grim death, and by a skillful upward hitch of
his body, locked his fingers above the trunk, and was safe; he was then
able to hold double his own weight.
His next move was to throw his feet around the trunk, when it was an
easy matter for him to twist himself over on top, where he was as secure
as lying on his own trundle bed in the cabin at home.
The instant his own safety was secured his whole soul was stirred by
anxiety for Fred Linden, who, he knew, was placed at more disadvantage
than he. Since he was further from shore than was he, and since the
latter had been able to save himself only by a hair's breadth, it was
clearly beyond the power of Fred to escape in the same manner--though it
might be that there was some other remote chance for him.
The first glance that Terry cast over the muddy waters showed him his
friend, swimming manfully for shore, but so far out in the stream that
it was impossible for him to reach it before passing into the grip of
the rapids.
"It's no use," called out Fred, in a voice in which there was no tremor
or shrinking; "I'm bound for the rapids, and here goes."
And deliberately facing about, he swam coolly in the direction of the
boiling waters as though he were bathing in a still lake.
"Be the powers, but he is plucky," muttered Terence, thrilled by the
sight; "if he can get through there alive, I'll be proud of him!"
The rapids, of which I have made mention several times, were caused by a
series of irregular rocks, extending a hundred yards, in the space of
which the stream made a descent of a dozen or twenty feet. At ordinary
times the creek wound languidly around these obstructions, forming many
deep, clear pools of water, that afforded the best kind of fishing.
There was so much room for the current that there was no call for it to
make haste.
But you can understand how different it was when the creek was swollen
by violent rains. It then dashed against the rocks, was thrown back,
plunged against others, whirled about and charged upon still others, by
which time it was a mass of seething foam, with the spray flying high in
air, and a faint rainbow showing through the mist when the sun was
shining. After fighting its way between and around and over these
obstructions, the current emerged at the bottom one mass of boiling foam
and dancing bubbles, which continued for several hundred feet before
the effects of the savage churning that the water had received could be
shaken off.
Now, it would be idle to say that these rapids were as dangerous as the
famous whirlpool below Niagara Falls; for it would not only be untrue,
but it would shut me out from taking Fred Linden safely through them:
for I am bound to do that, since he is too good a fellow to sacrifice at
this early stage of my story, and you would not forgive me for doing so.
But all the same the danger was great, and was enough to cause the
bravest man to shrink from attempting the passage. Fred would have been
glad to shrink from going through, but since that was beyond his power
he did the wisest course--faced about and kept his wits with him.
There was one consolation--the suspense could last but a few moments; he
was sure to emerge from the lower falls within the space of a minute,
whether alive or dead.
The first object that caught his eye was his broken canoe. Naturally it
was but a short distance below him, though it had gained a little while
he was struggling so hard to make land. It was turned on its side,
spinning sometimes one way and then whirling the other, according to the
whim of the current; then sea-sawing up and down, until all at once it
shot upward like a huge sturgeon, which sometimes flings its whole
length out of the water.
Another point must be named that was gained by this facing about of Fred
Linden. Since he was going with the current he kept pace with every
thing else that was afloat, and he was therefore in no danger from the
trees and branches that had caused him so much, and, in fact, nearly all
his trouble.
At the moment he was about to enter the boiling rapids he found himself
partly entangled in the branches of a large uprooted tree that was
dancing about in a crazy fashion.
"This may help to shield me from being dashed against the rocks," was
his thought, as he seized hold of a thick limb close to the point where
it put out from the trunk; "at any rate I don't see that it can make
matters any worse."
The act of Fred Linden in grasping the limb saved his life. The next
moment he was whirled hither and thither, half strangled with foam, head
now in air, now beneath the surface, his body grazing the jagged rocks
by the closest possible shave, and all the time shooting forward with
dizzying rapidity, until at last he emerged into the calmer water below
as well and hearty as he ever was in all his life.