FIRE IN THE WOODS

By Prof. James De Mille

Author Of The “B. O. W. C.,” “The Boys Of Grand Pre School,” “Lost In The Fog,” “Among The Brigands,” Etc.

Illustrated

Boston: Lee And Shepard Publishers

1871

Contents

I.

On a Visit.—A Fascination and a Temptation.—Secret Plans.—An exciting Letter.—Where’s old Solomon?—Arrival of an Opportunity.—The Opportunity seized.—A hazardous Adventure.—The Island in the Falls.

II.

The Island in the Falls.—A Discovery of a startling Kind.—The sullen Boar.—A mad Risk.—The Struggle for Life.—On the Verge of Ruin.—A last Effort.—Over the Falls.—Ingulfed and drawn down by the Vortex.—Where is Pat!

III.

Bart off on an Expedition.—The Search after Solomon.—The aged Toiler.—The Flaming Fury.—The brandished Broomstick.—Collapse of Solomon.—Extinction of the Flaming Fury.—Solomon vanishes.—Terrible Tidings.—An anxious Search.—Despair.

IV.

At the Mercy of the Tide.—Ears deafened.—Eyes blinded.—A fresh Struggle for Life.—The Roar of the Steam Whistle.—Where are we?—Pat explores.—A desolate Abode.—The falling Tides.—Without Food and Shelter.

V.

Flight of Solomon.—In Hiding.—Solomon is himself again.—Up the River.—Through the Country.—A long Drive.—An Indian Village.—An Indian Guide.—Preparing for the Expedition.

VI.

A long Drive, and a long Walk.—The wild Woods.—An Encampment.—The blazing Fire.—Lo! the poor Indian.—The Wolf and the Watch-dog.—The Spring of the Wild Beast.—Solomon to the Rescue.—A Fight, and a Flight.

VII.

Passing the Night.—On Guard.—The watchful Sentinel.—Plans.—Through the Woods.—The winding River.—Fishing.—The overcast Sky. Arrival of Pat with startling Tidings.—A useless Search.

VIII.

The Loss of Phil.—Deep Gloom and heavy Grief.—A Night of Terror.—The torrid Atmosphere.——The Smell of Smoke.—The Darkness that might be felt.—Morning brings Relief.—The Search.—The Rock and the Precipice by the River-side.—The Track of Phil.—Following the Trail.—The Trail lost.—Persevering Search.—The End of the Day.

IX.

Lost—Deliberations.—Trying to regain the Course.—The Smoke of the Burning.—The stagnant Air.—Onward.—An Opening in the Forest.—Hope and Enthusiasm.—A Rush forward.

X.

The Opening.—The Sea, the Sea, the open Sea.—The Priest.—The Promise of Help.—Pat takes a Walk, and passes a mysterious Building.—He takes a Swim.—Return of Pat.—A terrific Discovery.—Pat in a Panic.—The Scene of Horror.—Smoke and Flame.—The Fire Glow by Night.

XI.

Where? O where is Phil?—The Wanderer in the Woods.—Struggles with Difficulties that always increase.—Approach of Night.—Gloom.—Despair.—Climbing a Tree.—No Hope.—Rallying from the Assault.—A Midnight Meal.—Overworn Nature seeks Repose.

XII.

The Wanderer on his winding Way.—The Bewilderment of the Forest.—Swamps and Bogs.—? The friendly Brook.—Following the Flow of the running Water.—A pleasant Course.—An encouraging Discovery.—Astray once more.—He sinks to Rest.—The last Sandwich.

XIII.

Clouds and Vapors.—The exhaustive Heat.—Thirst.—Muddy Water.—The Pangs of Hunger.—How to fish.—The River.—The placid Lake.—A Plunge into the Water.—The Midday Mead.—The Pine Woods.—The rocky Cavern.—Preparing a Night’s Rest.—The Evening Repast.—Night once more.

XIV.

Bart.—An anxious Night.—Suspicions.—Reappearance of Pat.—The Woes of Pat.—A hideous Thought.—The Leper.—Off to the Woods.—Indian File.—The Rear Guard.—Defection of Pat.—He makes a Circuit.—“Hyar! Hyar! You dar? Whar Mas’r Bart?”

XV.

Solomon in a Rage.—Flight of Pat.—The Explorers penetrate the Forest.—The missing Companions.—New Fears and Anxieties.—A baffled Search.—Onward.—The Recesses of the Forest.—An open Space.—Halt!

XVI.

The wide open Space.—The terrific Scene.—Arrested and driven back.—New Purposes.—The Story of the Great Fire of Miramichi, and the Ruin wrought in one tremendous Night.

XVII.

Phil awakes.—A morning Bath and a morning Repast.—A pleasant Discovery.—Once more upon the Move.—The rough, impenetrable Woods.—The River.—A new Mode of Travel.—The friendly Log.—I’m afloat, I’m afloat.—Arrested.—The secret Place of Fire.

XVIII.

The Conflagration.—A dread Alternative.—Forward or backward.—A bold Decision.—The Hood.—A terrible Venture.—The red Place of Flame.—The Place of the fiery Glow.—The toppling Tree.—A Struggle for Life.—The fiery Atmosphere.—The last supreme Moment.

XIX.

The black Place of Desolation.—Blue Sky.—Open Heavens.—The Glory of the Sunshine.—Green Hills.—The open Sea once more.—Along the Road.—A strange, a very strange Encounter.—The Wandering Leper.—Naaman the Syrian.

XX.

Fish for Breakfast.—The Cottage and the Schooner.—A familiar Sight.—The old Boat.—Sinking in deep Waters.—An exciting and amazing Meeting.—The Flag.—Bart on the Road.—A strange Discovery.—A fresh Surprise.

XXI.

Where is Solomon?—The Search.—The aged Wanderer.—Recognition.—Boating.—Fishing.—Cooking.—Swimming.—The Preparations for the Banquet.—The savory Smell.—Solomon dances a Breakdown, and makes a Speech.

XXII.

Away from Tracadie.—The Gulf of St. Lawrence.—The Bay de Chaleur.—The innumerable Fishing Boats.—Along Harbor—Shippegan.—The Acadians.—The Memories of Grand Pré.

XXIII.

The Story of an Acadian Exile.—The Country in Flames.—A dread Discovery.—Pursuit.—Flight over the Water.—The Bloodhound Instinct.—Red Sea Waves.

XXIV.

The American Indian in a new Light.—The false Guide.—Solomon prepares for Vengeance.—The Indian Chief.—Full Explanations.

THE SIX VOLUMES OF THE “B. O. W. C” SERIES.

FIRE IN THE WOODS.

I.

On a Visit.—A Fascination and a Temptation.—Secret Plans.—An exciting Letter.—Where’s old Solomon?—Arrival of an Opportunity.—The Opportunity seized.—A hazardous Adventure.—The Island in the Falls.
BART DAMER lived at St. John, and on his return home he had brought with him his two friends, Phil and Pat, to pass the vacation with him. Solomon had also accompanied them, for the purpose of visiting some relatives who lived in the vicinity. Neither Phil nor Pat had ever been in St. John before, and they found the place full of attractions of no common order.

Indeed, it may safely be said, that St. John possesses attractions sufficient to excite the interest even of those who have travelled far and seen much, and can lay claim to far more experience than could possibly have been possessed by two lads like Phil and Pat.

Situated as it is on a peninsula between two seas, and on a declivity which slopes steeply down on three sides, its houses rise one above another, and thus produce an effect which is in the highest degree imposing to those approaching. Before the city and behind it two furious floods pass and repass, in one place filling up the broad channel with sand, but in the other mingling with the torrent of a mighty river, which, after flowing for five hundred miles, at this place pours all its accumulated waters into the bay.

All around the city are many striking scenes; the sea, with its tides and currents; the sky, with its clouds and fogs; the rocky ledges, the surf-beaten islands, and the far-folded headlands; the low marshes, and broad sand flats; the bold, rocky hills, whose summits, rising one behind another, fade away in the distance;—and over all these an ever-changing atmosphere, which at one time veils all the scene in thick mists, and at another time gathers up all its clouds to lend additional glories to the setting sun.

But, amid all these objects of interest, one stands forth preeminent, and that is the river. After flowing for many a mile through every variety of scenery, it at length approaches its termination, where, within the space of a few miles, it gathers together the extremes of the grand and the beautiful. Here it expands into a broad lake, and receives into itself, by a wide mouth, another tributary river; after which it contracts into narrow dimensions, and winds its way between rocky precipices till it reaches the suburbs of the city. Here it expands once more, and then, flowing onward a little farther, it comes to a place where towering cliffs rise abrupt, giving signs of some primeval convulsion of nature, which has rent the solid rock asunder to open a pathway for the waters. Here, through a narrow and gloomy gorge, it rushes onward, past rocky shores and between small islands, and at length, with a majestic curve, sweeps into the harbor, and thence into the bay.

Now, the surface of that bay is forever changing, as the mighty tides ebb and flow, and the difference between the extremes of its elevation is great. At low tide all the river pours in foam and fury through this gorge, forming what is called the Falls; at high tide, on the contrary, the outer waters run swiftly up the river with resistless sweep; while between the two there is a time when the waters are so still that the most fragile boat can pass with perfect safety in any direction.

The scene is magnificent. At the beginning of the Falls the river grows narrow, showing two rocky islets on one side, and a promontory on the other. Then, after widening again, it once more contracts, and lowering cliffs of solid rock arise on either side. Across this abyss a suspension bridge has been flung, from which there is a view full of grandeur. Here at high tide the river may be seen rushing up; at low tide it may be seen pouring down with the fury of a cataract; while at intermediate tide may be seen steamers, and schooners, and scows, and timber-rafts, and sail-boats, and row-boats, all passing through in perfect safety.

After exhausting the possibilities of the place, Phil and Pat both settled down upon the Falls as the one grand distinguishing feature of the city, at least in their estimation. Bart’s house was not very far away, and so they used to come here often; sometimes sitting on the suspension bridge, and watching the flood below, or the vessels passing underneath, or the foam of the thunderous cataract; at other times scaling the sides of the precipice, and working their way down to the edge of the river, so as to look up from thence and watch the suspension bridge overhead, with the people and carriages that passed to and fro. Thus the whole immediate vicinity of the Falls became at length perfectly familiar to them, and there was not a single spot worth seeing which they had not thoroughly explored.

When I say this, I must make an exception. There were some spots which yet baffled them. These were two islands which lay in the channel of the river, and, when the flood poured down, received its shock upon their rocky borders. These islands lay out of the reach of the boys, and for that reason became particularly attractive to them. An island is always an object of unutterable fascination to a boy; but these became still more fascinating, for the reason that they seemed to be more inaccessible than was generally the case. At the same time they were very provokingly near. From one shore the distance was so slight that it seemed almost possible to jump across. But the possibility was only apparent; the island was in reality inaccessible, except by boat, at certain times of tide, and so Phil and Pat only found themselves tantalized by the sight of an object apparently so near, yet in reality so remote.

Each of the boys began at length to be filled with a consuming desire to reach the islands, and each soon began to think over some plan by which their purpose might be effected. Of the two, Pat was the more eager; in fact, if it had not been for him, it is not at all likely that Phil would ever have felt the desire so strongly; but Pat seemed to be completely carried away by this one feeling; and his excitement was gradually communicated to Phil, till at last one was as eager as the other to reach those inviting shores.

As for Bart, he was in a different position altogether. He had been taken there once, and consequently knew all about them; and thus there was no mystery to attract him. In the second place, his father had forbidden him, most positively and most solemnly, from ever having anything whatever to do with any boat above the Falls. The prohibition was one which was so final, that the idea of disobeying it never for one moment entered into his head; and when Pat had mentioned his wish to visit the islands, he had refused so positively, and had warned him against it so earnestly, that Pat from that moment never alluded to it again in his presence. In this matter Phil was influenced by Pat, rather than by Bart; that is to say, he listened rather to Pat’s enthusiastic descriptions of those mysterious islands than to the somewhat unsatisfactory warning which Bart had given; and the only result of that warning was, that he and Pat began to devise in secret some plan by which they might achieve their desire.

The result of this was, that Pat volunteered to go forth and make some inquiries about boats. There were plenty of boats above the Falls, and it was easy enough to procure one. The only difficulty was, that people might not be willing to let one to inexperienced boys. But Pat was fully a match for this emergency. He was ready with any amount of professions as to his ability to manage any boat; and indeed in such professions he was not deceitful, for he could handle an oar as well as any boy of his age. And so his offer was accepted very readily by Phil; and the consequence was, that Pat took occasion to make his search, and made it with such success that he at length found a boat every way adapted to their purpose. He did this, too, quite unknown to Bart.

This must not be considered as a violation of confidence, or anything of that sort; for Pat was, after all, not capable of direct deceit. The fact was, he regarded Bart’s objection as due to his father’s command, and that command he did not consider as at all binding either upon himself or upon Phil. He did not suppose that there was any actual danger, nor did he stop to think that Mr. Darner’s prohibition might be founded upon wise precautions and a knowledge of the perils of the place; for, as a matter of fact, though this fact was unknown to Pat, the Falls are sufficiently dangerous to cause the loss of one life per year on an average, besides many accidents which do not result in an actual loss of life; and it was this knowledge of the dangers attendant upon boating in these waters which had led to Mr. Darner’s prohibition.

Thus Pat went innocently and confidently to work, and obtained a boat; and Phil entered with the utmost eagerness into Pat’s plan. Bart’s strong objections and earnest warnings had, however, produced sufficient effect upon them to make them anxious to keep their plan a secret from him, and to carry it into execution at some time when he might not be with them. But this was not very easy, for Bart was always with one or both of them; and so, even after they had found a boat, it still seemed as difficult as ever to make use of it.

At length an event occurred which gave them the long desired opportunity of making use of the boat in a voyage to the islands.

This event was the receipt by Bart of a letter from Bruce Rawdon. It was as follows:—

“Dear old Bart: How are you, and how have you been enjoying yourself? Are you aware that four weeks have passed, and that our holidays will soon be over? I’ve got several things to say, and others to propose, and therefore I take my pen in hand on the present occasion.

“First of all, Tom is with us, and has been all along. A week after we got home, he received a letter from his father, who told him that he was going to England with his mother, and that he might stay with us, and go back to school with us. Well, Tom was a little disappointed, but not so very much, after all. So he’s been here ever since. The next thing I have to tell you is, the arrival here of a mutual friend and benefactor. You see it happened this way: The other day I was down on one of the wharves, when I was struck by a familiar-looking craft, and on going nearer it became still more familiar. So I jumped on board in a state of high excitement, and put my head into the opening of a very familiar cabin, when suddenly it encountered another head that was putting itself out. And who do you think it was? I won’t keep you in suspense. It was Captain Corbet! Yes, it was himself, as meek, as mild, as paternal, and as venerable as ever. He came here after oats. With him is Mr. Wade, whose ‘ole ’oman’s name’ he still insists is Gipson, and he also asserts that we won’t find many of that name in this country.

“Well, now I come to the point of my letter. We have persuaded the venerable Corbet to give up oats for the present and charter his ship to us. We have organized a campaign around the Bay de Chaleur. We are going to operate by sea and land. Now, what do you say to it? Will you come? Is Phil with you, and Pat? Have you got Solomon? What do you say? Can you resist? Can you keep away when you hear that the Antelope is once more upon the waters, and that the flag of the B. O. W. C. is again floating from her masthead? Resist? You know you can’t.

“And so I merely remark that we shall be at Shippegan, on the Bay de Chaleur, on the 15th of August. This gives you two or three weeks to reach us. We shall expect you. Bring Phil. Bring Pat. Bring Solomon. Without the glow of his beloved countenance shining upon us as it beams over the cooking-stove, no expedition is worth having.

“We start in a few days. You need not answer, as there will not be time to get your letter. We all count upon meeting you at Shippegan on August 15.

“The venerable Corbet sends his blessing.

“Yours in B. O. W. C.

“Bruce Rawdon.”

This letter created the wildest outburst of joy that is possible to the effervescing spirits of enthusiastic boys. It came at the very time when the holidays were beginning to grow a little dull; when all its first pleasures had been exhausted, and no new ones remained. Coming thus, it brought the prospect of new excitement, and met with but one response. Bart eagerly appealed to his father, and received his permission to meet his friends. Then followed long discussions as to their journey to the Bay de Chaleur; and first and most important among the preliminaries of their journey was the necessity of preparing Solomon for what was proposed.

Solomon!

But where was Solomon?

Shortly after their arrival, he had taken his departure, and had not been seen since. Bart, however, knew where he had gone, and supposed that he might be there yet; so he proposed that they should all drive off in search of Solomon early on the following day.

There soon arose a difficulty, however, which interfered with this. The place was fifteen miles away, and Mr. Damer would not trust the horse to Bart alone. If the servant drove, there would not be room for them all, and so one, at least, would have to stay behind. Pat and Phil each offered to stay; and as it would be lonely for only one to remain, it was finally decided that both should stay, while Bart went off alone to search after the Grand Panjandrum.

This arrangement was the very thing that was most satisfactory to Phil and Pat; and thus chance threw into their way the very opportunity for which they had been waiting so eagerly and impatiently.

Early on the following morning Bart started, while Phil and Pat waited a little while, in order to have a convenient time for setting forth upon their own enterprise. The sky was clear, and the sun was bright overhead; but half way down the harbor there were heavy fog clouds, which increased until all the distance was concealed from view. But as these fogs belonged to the bay, and did not affect the land, they had no anxiety about their excursion, since it was to take place on the river.

They waited leisurely about the house for an hour after breakfast, and at length left without saying anything to anybody, and went at once to the Falls. As they came in sight of the river, they looked with eager eyes over its surface to see whether the time was a suitable one for their enterprise. Their first glance was highly satisfactory. As far as they could judge, it seemed the very best time that there could be to make the attempt. The water was quite smooth, and the stream was moving along rather slowly. Upon reaching the suspension bridge, they stood still and looked down. As they stood there, they saw several wood boats approaching them from the upper part of the river. They came along slowly, and with as little motion of any kind as though they were in the placid waters farther up. The two boys watched them as they passed under the bridge, and then followed them with their eyes as they half sailed, half drifted, onward to the harbor.

This sight greatly encouraged them, and there seemed now not the slightest doubt of the perfect feasibility of their enterprise. Without any further delay, therefore, they at once set out for the place where the boat was kept that Pat had engaged.

The Falls are about a quarter of a mile above the suspension bridge. At this place, as has been said, the river contracts, and is hemmed in be-between the projecting precipice of a rocky promontory on one side, and a small, shaggy, wooded island on the other. Between these it pours its flood, which alternates between the swift influx of the sea-water at high tide, and the Swift, thunderous outpour of low tide, when the river flings itself in wrath and foam down a declivity of rocks that form its bed. Above this place there is a wide expanse, and on the upper side of the promontory is a cove which affords an excellent shelter for boats, rafts, and schooners. It was in this cove that their boat was kept, and towards this they now directed their steps as fast as possible.

On reaching the place, they found the boat afloat, with its oars inside, and fastened by the painter to the wharf. Here they stopped for a short time, and again looked forth over the surface of the water.

Immediately in front it was as smooth as a millpond, and farther out it appeared to be quite as calm. The two islands to which they wished to go were out there, full before them, on the other side of the river, yet not so far away but that they could be reached by a moderate effort. A brief survey satisfied both of them; and without waiting any longer, they cast off’ the line, and rowed away towards the islands.

A quarter of an hour’s vigorous pulling brought them well out of the cove, and soon they reached the channel of the river. Here the water was still smooth; but they noticed that the current was much stronger than they had expected to find it. After all, however, there was as yet no very great force in it; and so they pulled on. But the current made some change in their plans; for, whereas they had at first intended to go to the upper island, they now found the sweep of the tide dragging them so far out of their course, that they decided to land upon the lower one.

This one lay nearest now. They were between the two, and the rocky shore of the island was close by. It was the part of the island which lay farthest up stream. They thought it best to visit this one first, then the other, after which they could return to the shore, or continue their explorations in other directions, as the fancy might seize them.

With these intentions, they turned the boat’s head towards the island, and in a short time stepped out upon the rocky beach.

II.

The Island in the Falls.—A Discovery of a startling Kind.—The sullen Boar.—A mad Risk.—The Struggle for Life.—On the Verge of Ruin.—A last Effort.—Over the Falls.—Ingulfed and drawn down by the Vortex.—Where is Pat!
THE boys secured their boat to the rocks, and then clambered up the bank to the top of the island. Arriving there, they found but little to be seen. The island was of very small dimensions, and the thick woods that covered it made it impossible to gain any view of the whole scene around. They crossed to the lower side, and came back; after which they sat down on the edge of the bank, just above the boat, and looked out. They could see up the river from here—the wide cove, the rocky shores, the saw-mills, the rafts, the scows, the tug boats, the wood boats, and the river steamers. Now that they were on the island, there was certainly not much to reward them, except this view; and even this was not equal to that which might be had from the suspension bridge. But, then, they were not altogether destitute of a reward. The island was small and insignificant; but, then, it was an island, and that was something. Besides, their position here meant that they had achieved their enterprise; and the consciousness of success was of itself a sufficient reward.

“I wonder,” said Phil, “why no more vessels go through the Falls—”

“Through the Falls, is it?” said Pat. “O, sure it’s just because they don’t want to; an that’s all, so it is.”

After some more conversation, they began to grow tired of the island; and since they had exhausted all the pleasure that a landing upon it, combined with the consciousness of success, could afford, there remained nothing more to do but to complete their enterprise by effecting a landing upon the other island also.

This one lay farther up the stream; and as they launched their boat and rowed towards it, they became at once sensible of a great increase in the difficulty of their task. With their utmost efforts their progress was very slow, and it took far longer to reach it than it had taken to come from the shore to the first island. At length, however, they reached it, and secured the boat.

“Ye see,” said Pat, who always was ready to account for everything,—“ye see we’ve had the tide dead agin us this time. Whin we crossed the river it was on’y on one side. Whin we go back, it’ll be all fair and aisy, for we’ll have it on one side agin; and that’s how it is.”

They now began to explore this second island. It was larger than the other, but did not seem so large. As it was free from woods, its small extent was perceptible at a glance, which was not the case with the other. The absence of woods made it also even less interesting. But the boys were not at all exacting; and as there was nothing in particular to see on the island, they naturally turned their eyes to the scene that lay beyond. This scene was now very extensive. They could look around in every direction, and enjoy an unobstructed view. Up the river it was the same as it had been before—the same assemblage of rocky hills, and schooners, and steamers, and rafts; but down the river a grander view unfolded itself before their eyes.

The river there ran on till it seemed terminated by a wall of rocks, at the foot of which a steam saw-mill was clattering and howling. On each side of the water arose perpendicular cliffs, and between these was the suspension bridge, whose frail pathway was sustained by cables that passed over granite towers at the edge of the precipice; and overhung a tremendous gulf of treacherous waters.

Suddenly Phil put his hand on Pat’s shoulder. Pat turned, and saw him looking anxiously out over the water and pointing.

“What’s the matter?” asked Pat.

“I wonder what makes it so white over there,” said Phil, in an anxious tone.

He was pointing to the water between the island and the promontory. Here the surface was agitated, and foam was emerging and floating on in ever-increasing masses, while a deep, dull roar began to be slowly perceptible to their ears.

“What is it?” repeated Pat, after looking for a little while in silence at the place where Phil had pointed. “What is it?” he repeated, after a little hesitation. Then his hesitation vanished, and in his usual confident way, he proceeded to account for the foam.

“Sure an it’s the foam,” said he, “an that’s what it is.”

“But there wasn’t any foam a little while ago,” said Phil.

“Deed, thin, an I wor jist thinkin that same,” said Pat, in a candid tone.

The boys stood now for a little while in silence. The low, dull roar increased as they listened, and excited very singular feelings in the minds of both.

“The tide is certainly stronger,” said Phil—“a good deal stronger. I wonder if—if—it’s too strong for us.”

“Niver a bit,” said Pat, shaking off his uneasiness. “Sure an we’ll have no throuble. We’re jist a good bit above the Falls—so we are—an there’s no danger—not the laist in life.”

Again they stopped, and looked, and listened.

And now the foam had increased, the dull roar was perceptibly louder, and its deep cadence reverberated in their inmost hearts, exciting dark apprehensions.

“Deed an I’ll jist tell ye what it is,” cried Pat, suddenly. “It’s no use standin here all day; we must hurry out of this.”

“But can we now?” asked Phil, uneasily.

“Sure an why not?”

“The tide—it’s so strong.”

“Sure an that’s nothin,” said Pat. “All we’ve got to do is to head the boat up strame, half up an half across, an we’ll slide over that way in spite of the tide, so we will.”

Pat’s confident tone reassured Phil, and as Pat set off quickly to the boat, he followed without a word of further objection. Under the impression that there was now not a moment’s time to lose, they pushed the boat off; and seizing the oars, they began pulling with all their strength, Pat taking the stroke oar, and striving to head her in that mysterious direction which he had described a short time ago. For a few minutes they exerted all their strength; and both boys, as they pulled, kept turning their heads, so as to see the shore, which they wished to gain. Those few minutes served to put a considerable distance between them and the island which they had left. But the interval was not exactly the kind which they wished to see between them and it. It was evident that their progress forward was not very great, but that at the same time their progress down the stream was fearfully rapid. And that stream was setting full towards the Falls.

Phil noticed this first, and his cry aroused Pat, who was still too much interested in watching his destination to regard his actual situation. But that situation, as the two boys looked around upon it, was calculated to administer a shock to the strongest nerves, and quicken the action of the stoutest heart.

The river current was running down at such a rate of speed that their efforts to counteract it while crossing were quite unavailing. Its force had already dragged them down stream about half way between the two islands, while the actual progress which they had made towards their destination was small. Their downward drift had brought them nearer to the Falls, and as they took their hasty look around, they were aware again of that low, sullen roar which they had heard on the island; but now that roar was deeper and nearer, and the low, droning sound of the agitated waters struck more menacingly upon their ears.

At this moment there was still one chance, and one only. That was to head the boat back for the island which they had just left. Had they done so, and rowed for their lives, there was a possibility of emerging yet from the clutch of that hungry current, which grew more and more tenacious as they advanced, and from which escape was only possible by a retreat. But at that moment Pat did not fully realize the danger that impended. He was quite cool, and the mistake that he made arose from an error in judgment, rather than from anything like panic. He had only the idea of resisting the current, and was unable as yet to give up his purpose of returning to the boat’s wharf. So he headed the boat up stream in such a way that their own force should be brought as much as possible against the current, and yet secure to it a slight advance.

They now pulled, as before, in silence, using all their strength. The head of the boat was almost up stream, and as they pulled they could see all that could be seen of the danger below them. For about five minutes they thus struggled, and at the end of that time there began to force itself into the minds of both of them the dread conviction that the strength of the current was too great for their efforts. Pat saw this first, and, seeing this, made a final relinquishment of his efforts to cross, and put the boat’s head straight up stream, so as to make all their efforts tell against the tide itself. But by that time they had brought themselves to where the tide was strongest, and that tide was growing stronger and stronger every minute. This they both saw and felt; and they knew enough of the nature of the Falls to understand now the mistake that they had made. For they had crossed to the islands when the tide was falling, and, in their attempt to return, had been caught by a tide that had been increasing in force ever since they had last crossed it, and was still increasing and directing all its might down towards the Falls.

Their efforts to resist the tide were overpowered. The river was gaining; their strength was failing. One last, faint hope remained—to turn the boat back, to pull towards the islands; it might yet be possible by strenuous effort to drag the boat forth from the clutch of the mighty waters. The lower island was as yet below them, on their left; if they could only bring the boat out of the middle of the stream, they might reach it.

For the last time, then, Pat changed the direction of the boat, turning it but slightly, however, just enough to aim at the upper island. Then again, as before, they put forth their last remaining energies. With feverish anxiety they fixed their eyes upon one or two objects on the land, to watch whether the boat was losing or gaining. That it was still being drawn down by the tide was at once certain; but they yet had a hope that their advance towards the islands might serve to bring them there before it was too late. And now they had fairly reached the crisis of this tremendous struggle. Rousing up the very last of their exhausted strength, they exerted themselves with the convulsive energies of despair, working in silence, with eyes fixed on the shore.

In vain!

They saw themselves drawn down in a line with the lower island, and there, tree by tree, and rock by rock, they saw that island slipping past them; while the distance between them and it had been lessened so slightly that it afforded no prospect whatever of their being able to attain it. At length the last vestige of hope died out. The howling, wrathful vortex was just before them, and now the islands were forgotten, and all their efforts were directed towards saving themselves as long as possible from that fate which they felt was inevitable.

Of the two, Pat was the least affected. Phil was pale, and sat with his eyes glaring at the flood, straining himself at the oars with all his strength, his brows contracted, his lips parted, his breath coming and going in quick, short gasps. As for Pat, the ruddy color of his honest but freckled Irish face remained unchanged; and though he was working with all his might, he as yet showed no signs of any very extreme exhaustion; for his muscles were harder, and his frame more inured to labor, than the slender limbs and lighter frame of his companion. Nor did he gasp or sob, nor were his brows contracted, nor was there any other expression on his face than that same jovial, healthy, and withal rather impudent self-confidence which it usually wore.

Yet, if anything could have reduced Pat to despair it was the sight that now appeared immediately before him.

The boat had been dragged for some distance out of the middle of the stream, and was nearer the island than it had been, though still out of reach. The tide was fearfully strong. At every desperate pull the boat would stand still; but between the strokes the tide would bear it down. Thus their efforts only served now to stop the boat for a few moments at every stroke, without in any way ennabling them to elude their fate.

The Falls were close at hand—just in front.

These Falls were not, however, a thunderous cataract, though at the lowest stage of the tide, their furious surges, as they sweep over the rock-strewn descent of the river bed, would be, perhaps, even more dangerous than a cataract itself. But now they were not at their most furious stage. Still, as the boys gazed there, they saw enough to appall them.

All across was a white line of foam. Immediately in front, the water seemed to come in contact with some hidden reef, for it lifted itself up in a heap, and, rounding over, tumbled in thunder on the other side. It was towards this that they were drifting. This was sufficiently formidable, but where the foam tossed and the boiling waters seethed in a long flood of white, it seemed equally so; and thus even if Pat had been inclined to make a choice of some particular place to direct the boat, he would not have been able to select one, since all places appeared equally repellent. The fact was, however, Pat had no such ideas, but was thinking of some other way of encountering the coming fate.

There, then, full before them, was the long line of boiling breakers; there was that upheaving mass of water rounding itself over the sunken ledge. The hiss of the foam was in their ears, while beneath it was the gloomy menace of the roar of many waters.

“Phil,” cried Pat, “can you swim?”

“A little,” said Phil.

“It’s our last chance. Will ye do what I tell ye?”

“Yes.”

“Take off yer coat, howld on to yer oar, and jump whin I give the word.”

“What!” cried Phil; “stop rowing? Why, we’ll be lost—”

“Lost, is it? We’re sure to be that—row—or no row—so do as I say—will ye?”

Phil was silent for a moment, and still tugged at his oar, for neither of them had stopped during this conversation. In that moment of extremest peril there was no time to be taken up in deliberating. He had either to consent to Pat’s proposition, or refuse, and that at once.

“The boat’ll upset,” cried Pat, “sure. You jump out wid me whin I give the word. But ye’ll have to take off yer coat first. Yer bound to get a duckin, ony way, an ye’d better do as I say.”

“I’ll do it,” cried Phil, suddenly and decidedly.

“Aff wid yer coat, thin,” cried Pat.

Both boys flung down their oars, and whipped off their coats in an instant.

The boat was dragged now, without any further resistance, straight towards the Falls.

“Grab howld of yer oar,” cried Pat, quickly. “Stand up, an’ jump whin I give the word—ony mind, whin ye do jump, jump for’ard as fur as ye can.”

“Yes,” said Phil, quietly.

The two boys now stood up, each grasping an oar, and watching the water before them. The boat drifted down—nearer and nearer! Phil’s heart throbbed fast in the suspense of that dread moment, but Pat stood cool, collected, with his sharp, eager glance watching for the right time to jump.

And now that mighty mass of water, that lifted itself up in a heap, as it rose and rounded itself over the sunken ledge, grasped the boat, and raised it on high in its tremendous embrace, and impelled it forward. For a moment the boat seemed to linger there hesitating. Then it trembled in every fibre. Then it slowly turned round, till its broad side was presented to the waters below. Then one side was slowly drawn down under the water, while the other side rose up. Behind it a wall of water rushed.

Suddenly Pat gave a loud yell—

“Jump!”

Phil was already standing with the oar poised in one hand, and the other hand outstretched, waiting for Pat’s word. Every nerve, every sinew, was on the alert, and before the whole word was fairly spoken, and before Pat himself had sprung, Phil leaped forward. His feet touched the water first, He went down. A tremendous grasp seemed to seize upon him, dragging him downward, and ever downward. He gave himself up for lost. In the whirl of his senses, he seemed sinking into fathomless abysses, and in his ears there were the howling and the abhorrent uproar, and the deafening thunder-peal of a thousand cataracts. Then, in the midst of all this, another grasp clutched him, and dragged him swiftly forward, and whirled him round and round. Then he seemed to be thrown upward by the resistless upheaval of some mighty mass beneath him, and then suddenly he shot forth, out of the darkness and the uproar of the ingulfing waters, into the upper air and the glad light of day.

Clutching his oar, which he had held all this time with the grasp of a drowning man, he drew a long breath, and looked all around. Above him was the blue sky; farther on, across the sky, hung the suspension bridge; behind him was the howl of the Charybdis that he had just escaped.

Where was Pat?

As he thought of this, an involuntary shudder passed through him. He himself had escaped, and he now felt comparatively safe, for the oar was of immense assistance, and with the help of this it needed only a slight effort to keep his head above water. As to progress in any direction, the water was settling that question for him; for the mighty, resistless tide held him in its embrace, and was bearing him onward helplessly. There was no place to which he might look for escape, and no one to help.

But where was Pat?