CHAPTER XXVI

THE SINKING CRAFT

"THIS looks bad!" said Bob.

He had to raise his voice much above the ordinary, for out there on the river the rushing water did not seem so silent as the boys had believed when ashore; and all around them could be heard the boiling of the flood. Tree trunks floated around them in all directions, showing what an unusual thing this sudden rise of the river must be. There was constant danger lest one of these tremendous snags sink the delicate little skin boat; and often the boys had to use their paddles like mad to prevent such a catastrophe from happening.

And once, even a more singular peril threatened them. It was Sandy who made the discovery, shortly after Bob had uttered the remark given above.

"Oh! look yonder, brother; whatever can that be, perched up in that tree-top? It moved then, and we are getting closer to it all the while!" he exclaimed.

Bob needed only one look to tell him the nature of the object.

"It is a panther, Sandy," he said, quickly, and with a shake of his head. "A big cat of the wilderness; and, as Colonel Boone said, the thing most to be feared in all the forest, for it jumps on the hunter from behind. See his sleek gray sides? And notice how he swings his long tail back and forth? I do not think we want to get any closer to the gentleman, do you, Sandy?"

"See him crouch, Bob!" cried the other boy, in alarm. "Do you think he means to jump for the boat? What if he did, and upset us out here? That would be terrible! Let us shout together, and scare him, if we can!"

They did so, at the same time working feverishly to urge the boat further away from the drifting tree-top, which had come to be the refuge of the wood's terror.

Bob cast an apprehensive eye at the distance separating them. Could the animal clear it, if he decided to jump? Would he dream of changing his base in the hope of bettering his condition?

In fact, Bob was just considering whether it would not be wiser for him to rely on his gun, if the priming could be renewed in time, rather than in the hope of leaving the beast in the lurch, when Sandy cried out gleefully:

"We're gaining, Bob! Keep paddling like mad, and we shall make it. Already he hesitates, and dares not try! A strong pull, a long pull, and a pull all together now. Hurrah! who cares?"

It was hard to quench that lad's spirit. And somehow, even in such a moment of alarm, his buoyant courage did much to renew Bob's sinking hopes.

By increasing their pace, already incredibly swift, down the stream, they had managed to leave the panther and his tree-top in the lurch. There was no longer anything to be feared from that source.

"Are we making any progress at all?" asked Sandy, who was pretty well exhausted from his exertions.

"In one direction, yes; but toward the home shore I'm afraid not at all," was Bob's frank reply.

"But what shall we do?" cried the younger boy, in rapidly growing alarm; for by now the situation was beginning to impress even his buoyant nature. "We can never keep on like this all day, for the river grows constantly wider, and the flood stronger. Besides, Bob, I'm afraid the canoe is beginning to leak!"

Now, Bob had known that terrible fact for some little time, but hesitated to tell his brother, feeling sure that nothing they could do would mend matters.

"I have been thinking, Sandy; and there seems only one chance for us now," he said, trying to look ahead down the river.

"Oh! I hope you don't mean that we will have to swim for it!" cried the other, aghast at the idea of finding himself buffeting the flood, with either shore far away.

"No, I hope that may not come--yet a while, at least. But I was thinking of the island!" said Bob.

"The island! Oh! how did I come to forget that?" shouted Sandy, immediately beginning to show signs of new ambition. "Yes, that is it, Bob! We must try to land on the island, if it is still above water."

"Oh!" declared Bob, quickly, "part of it must be, for you remember it had quite a little hill on it."

"Yes, yes, for I spoke about the splendid tree that crowned the top, and said how I would like to own a cabin up under its shelter. But perhaps we have gone past the island! That would be terrible, wouldn't it, Bob?"

"Surely. But I am positive that is not true. I am looking to see it at any moment now. And, Sandy, just as soon as it comes into view, we must paddle like everything to make it. Once we fly past, and it is all over with us!"

The two castaways looked at each other, and each set his teeth with a determination to do wonders should the occasion call for it.

"Do you suppose we are anywhere on a line with the island?" asked Sandy, a new fear taking possession of him.

Bob shook his head.

"I don't know. It is impossible to tell anything in all this noise and confusion. But I think so; I hope so," he replied.

Both now settled down to watching the watery vista that stretched beyond. The wind was driving the rain out there on the river, so that at times a curtain seemed to be raised before them, only to fade away as the rain again held up for a brief interval.

Bob cast an occasional glance full of apprehension down at the water that was coming into the canoe. He knew that the leak must be growing, slowly but surely. Could they manage to make land before the boat filled and sank under them?

"There! I saw the island, I am sure!" cried Sandy, in a ringing tone. "But the rain has come back, and it is hidden again," he added in disgust.

"Which way?" shouted Bob.

"Over to the right! We must be just a little too far out!" replied Sandy.

"Then let us get to work! Head in toward the shore we have left, and do your very hardest, boy!" cried Bob.

Both of the lads dipped the paddles deeply. As before, they found that it required a giant's strength to accomplish anything worth while when pitted against that tremendous energy contained in the swift-moving flood.

Fortunately Sandy had recuperated in the brief time he had rested from his efforts, so that he was able to do himself credit now, when so much depended on changing their location.

The bare thought of missing the friendly island, and being carried on down that raging torrent, possibly to meet death somewhere below, was enough to make any one, even more tired than Sandy, swing his blade with a vim.

"Oh! we can never do it, Bob!" he gasped.

"Never say die! Keep at it, I tell you! It is our only chance!" was what came back from the other wielder of the spruce paddle.

The island could now be plainly seen. It did not look so large by half as when they had seen it on going up the river; but the more elevated parts were standing well out of the flood. On the upper end was a mass of accumulated debris in the shape of stranded trees and logs.

Poor Sandy looked, and a groan burst from his lips, for he feared they would not be able to overcome the current sufficiently to bring their little craft close enough to that friendly shore to enable them to land!

And Bob, who clung so desperately to hope, knew that there was absolutely no chance for them to reach a landing spot at the upper end, even if they had wanted to mix up with all that mass of interlocked trees.

He had grasped the situation in a comprehensive way, and sized it up.

The island was narrow, but somewhat lengthy. Of course the current ran like a mill-race along the shore. But Bob knew that below, where the two opposite tides met once more, there was bound to be somewhat of a reaction. Here a little backward swirl would be found, a sort of undertow, bearing upstream toward the foot of the island.

It would only extend for a limited distance. Once they got beyond that drawback, and there was absolutely no hope of making land!

And that was the one thing he had in mind when he sang out so encouragingly to his weaker brother:

"It is our only chance!"

Sandy was paddling with all his nerve, but not making a very great success of the effort. In fact, he was so winded that he hardly knew when he dipped his blade in the yeasty water, or drew it quaveringly toward him.

Still, he was game, and would not give up so long as he could move a hand. What little he could do to help might not stand for much, but every bit helped, and even in his great distress Sandy realized this.

He could see his brother fighting like mad to swerve the boat still further toward that shore, now so very close. It did not seem possible that Bob could be equal to the slightest additional call upon his reserve forces.

Now they had actually reached the upper end of the island, and were commencing to speed along its length.

A minute or so more, and they would know their fate. Everything seemed to depend on that last turn, when the canoe arrived at the junction of the two currents, just below the foot of the haven of safety.

"On the outer side--change over and help me!" shouted Bob, knowing that the critical moment was at hand.

Sandy started hastily to obey, jumping at conclusions. But once more his nervousness played him a scurvy trick.

"Oh! it is gone!" Bob heard him shriek suddenly, and, glancing up, the elder brother saw what had happened. The fierce sweep of the current had snatched the paddle from Sandy's weakened hand, and it was already floating far beyond his reach!