Frank turned to Harry and told him of his discovery.
"If we are cast into the pool let us make up our minds to get to
that rock. Keep your mind concentrated on it. Don't let the idea
leave you for a second and perhaps--I say 'perhaps'--we can make
it."
Harry shook his head despairingly.
"I can hardly keep my grip on this tree. I don't believe that I
could possibly manage to swim even a few yards," he groaned.
"You must," said Frank sharply. "Don't give in now, Harry. Stick
it out."
Then as a sudden thought struck him he continued.
"See here, it's no good our wasting our strength clinging to this
trunk any longer. Sooner or later we shall be swept off and the
longer we wait the less reserve strength we shall have. Let us
leave go now and swim for it."
Whatever reply Harry might have tendered to this desperate proposal
he was spared making, for at that moment a wave of more than
ordinary force--caused by the backed-up water striking the log--struck
him full in the face and before he knew it the boy had been washed
from the tree trunk and was being carried like a straw down the stream.
As Harry felt himself being carried along there was only one thought
in his mind. It was not of death. When death is right upon a man
or a boy he rarely thinks of it, but casts about for the best means
of saving himself.
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