CHAPTER XIII.

OVER THE FALLS

Jack was never so amazed in his life as when he discovered that the pale, senseless form that he had dragged upon the tree beside him was no less a person than his friend, Mont Gray. But at that moment, he did not stop to question how the young man had gotten into a position similar to his own. His one thought was whether or not his friend was alive.

He placed the body as comfortably as possible on the fork of the tree, and then watched eagerly for some sign of life.

There was a cut upon Mont's brow, and presently a few drops of blood oozed from the wound, and trickled down his cheek.

Jack took this as a good sign, and he was not mistaken, for a few seconds later the young man gave a deep sigh, and slowly opened his eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked, faintly.

"Here with me, Mont," replied the young machinist, bending over him. "Don't you know me?"

"Jack!" was the low response. "Oh, how my head hurts! Where are we?"

"On the river."

"We are?" Mont attempted to rise, but Jack pushed him back. "Oh, I remember now!" he continued, shuddering.

"Remember what?" asked the young machinist, eagerly.

"The push Mosey gave me over the bank. My head struck a rock, and I don't know what happened after that. Where did you say we are?"

"In the middle of the river, just above the falls."

"How in the world did we get here? Oh, I see! You came out to rescue me!"

"No, I didn't. Mosey pitched me from the old mill last night, and I've been in the water ever since. I saw your body floating along, and without knowing who it was, caught hold and landed you here."

"You've saved my life," exclaimed Mont, fervently. "I'll never forget that, Jack!"

"I don't know whether I've saved your life or not," returned the young machinist, seriously. "It depends on whether we can reach shore or not; we are close to the falls, and liable to go over at any minute."

Mont pulled himself to a sitting position.

"Better take care!" cried Jack, "or you'll fall off. I am tied fast, and you are not. Here, take this end of the rope and bind yourself."

"Never mind. I'm all right now," replied the young man, as he viewed the situation. "It is a tight scrape, and no mistake," he added. "Wonder how this tree is wedged fast? Must be between the rocks."

"Yes, and it won't hold fast forever," returned Jack.

"We must reach shore, if possible, without delay."

"Easier said than done. Now if we had a rope----"

"Will this do?"

"No; it isn't long enough. Hello! something's giving way already!"

At that instant the trunk of the tree quivered, and moved a foot or so nearer the falls.

"Hold fast for your life!" Jack called; "perhaps it has broken loose!"

He had hardly uttered the words before the tree snapped its fastenings and swept toward the falls.

"Give me your hand, Mont," continued Jack, in a loud voice, seeing that his friend could not secure a good hold.

But before the young man could comply the tree turned over, and both were immersed.

In another instant, the willow, for such it was, had reached the brink. Here it hesitated for a moment, and then with a sharp sound it dove over the madly boiling mass into the maelstrom below!

The noise was terrific. Jack held on, closing his eyes, and forgetting everything.

He felt himself go down, down--and still further. The water rang in his ears, and many colors flickered in his mind's eye. The pressure from above was tremendous.

Ten seconds passed. He felt his senses leaving him. Mont's body bumped against him, and unconsciously he threw his own body partly around that of his friend.

Then all became a dim, dark uncertainty. The willow did not remain under the falls long. The rush of water soon forced it out into the stream below, and once there, it shot along, bearing upon its topmost branches two human bodies.

It drifted in mid-stream, gradually diminishing its speed, until an island stopped its further progress.

It struck upon a sandy shore, and the upper end swung gently around, catching fast in some overhanging bushes.

The bright sun shone down upon the scene as tranquilly as ever. Its warm rays apparently revived Jack, for, with a deep shudder--like one awakening from a horrible dream--the young machinist opened his eyes and endeavored to take in the situation.

He felt as if he had been pulled and beaten until not a spot was left in his body that did not ache. The rope was gone from his wrists, hands and face were cut, and his clothing was torn in a dozen places.

Yet he did not mind all this. He had a certain sense of security--a knowledge that he had passed through a great peril in safety--that more than outbalanced his present sufferings.

Suddenly he thought of Mont. He started up to discover his friend lying near, his face deadly white, and his head hanging over the branch like a lump of lead.

Jack saw that they were close to shore--where, he did not know nor care, and gathering all his remaining strength, he clasped Mont in his arms, and made a leap for solid ground.

He reached the shore, deposited his friend's body on the grass, and then, unable longer to stand, sank down beside the young man.

The moments dragged wearily along. Jack felt himself growing stronger, and by pure grit he arose and turned all his attention to Mont.

"Looks as if he was dead!" was the young machinist's awful thought. "I never saw a drowned man, but he is fearfully quiet. Yet, if there's a spark of life left in him, I'll fan it up if I kill myself doing it."

He knelt down, and taking off Mont's coat, unloosened his collar. Then he rolled him on his back, raising the lower part of the body as high as possible, which caused the water to run from Mont's mouth in a stream.

After this he moved his friend's arms backward and forward to induce respiration, and was rewarded presently by seeing the young man give a gulp and a gasp for breath.

"Thank heaven for that!" ejaculated Jack. "It's a good sign," and with strengthened hopes he continued his efforts.

It was fully half an hour before Mont came to himself and sat up. He, too, was bewildered at the situation.

"Where are we?" he asked, after a long silence, in which both sought to regain their strength.

"I think we are on Blackbird Island," replied Jack, slowly. "That is just below the falls, you know."

"Did we drift here?"

"I suppose so. I don't know any more than you. I came to my senses on the tree only a little while ago."

Mont rolled over on his back and drew a long breath.

"I'm tremendously tired," he explained. "Do you know anything of this place?"

"I have often heard of it, but was never here before. I wonder if anyone lives here?"

"Don't know. It looks rather wild."

"Tell you what we'll do," said Jack. "We'll rest here in the sun for a while and let our clothes dry, and then explore the place and see what means we can find of reaching the mainland."

Mont agreed, and making themselves as comfortable as possible, the two boys rested for over an hour, each in the meantime relating to the other his experience.

"Mosey is a bad egg," was Mont's conclusion; "I suppose he thinks that he has sent us both to our death," and then he told Jack about the stolen model.

The young machinist was much worried.

"It must have been Corrigan," he said, as he arose, and put on his coat. "I wonder what he expects to do with such booty?"

"Sell it if he can," replied the young man. "Hello!" he exclaimed, as he happened to glance up. "Here comes some one. A girl, I declare! What is she doing in this wilderness?"