CHAPTER XXVII

BOB

THE situation had suddenly grown more desperate.

Deprived of what assistance Sandy might have given him, Bob must shoulder the entire burden. Perhaps the other had not been doing much, but his weak efforts must surely have helped a little.

Bob instinctively moved back. This would give him greater power to swing the head of the dancing canoe toward the objective point; for the paddler in the stern usually commands the course of the boat better than his comrade placed in the bow, though the latter guards against collisions, where rocks or stumps abound.

The time was so frightfully short that whatever was done had to be carried out by sheer instinct, rather than reasoning.

Sandy, utterly exhausted, and with his poor heart almost broken because of this new catastrophe which could be laid to his eager clumsiness, had dropped back in the bottom of the canoe. Here he lay in several inches of water, so discouraged that he was for the moment utterly unmindful of what was going on around him.

Of course he knew that Bob was working like a frantic being to push the wavering bow just a little closer to the shore they were so rapidly skirting. But it was all useless. His blunder had spoiled their last hope, and now nothing remained but to take what came.

How wonderful it was to see how Bob arose to the occasion. His arms were working like flails in the hands of a thresher of grain. They sped backward and forward with a momentum that fairly bewildered the eyes of Sandy.

But alas! there was one stupendous drawback, one thing that seemed fated to undo all this splendid work which his gallant brother was putting into play. Sandy saw, and groaned in spirit; for that was where he might have saved the day had he not lost his grip on his paddle when the hungry waves snatched at it.

It was the lost motion that would ruin them. Fast though Bob was making his apparently tireless arms move, he could not keep up a constant movement. And between his strokes that ceaseless current would undo nearly every bit of good that had been accomplished by his efforts.

Had Sandy been able to insert his blade between, he might have held the canoe to what had been gained. And each time Bob would have won more and more inches.

And yet, despite this serious handicap, Bob was actually doing wonders. Surely they did not seem to be quite so far away from the shore as when they first came abreast of the long island!

Sandy awoke to the fact that perhaps after all there _was_ a glimmer of hope.

"Oh! if you only can, Bob!" he cried, bestirring himself.

Was there anything he could do to help? He thought of leaning over the side of the canoe, and using his poor hands to dash at the water, on whose swiftly moving bosom they were being swept along.

Useless, worse than useless, for in so doing he might only serve to weaken Bob's furious efforts, by shaking the frail and almost sinking boat.

His gun--could he not do something with the broad shoulder butt to urge the canoe around? Sandy was a creature of impulse. He seldom waited to give a second thought to anything, once it found lodgment in his brain.

So he made a swoop forward, snatching the musket from the place where it had been fastened before the voyage was begun. The cord held, but with a second fierce jerk he broke it.

Then, with a shout in which new hope had a part, Sandy dipped the stock of the old gun deep in the river, and swept it around toward the stern.

Bob realized what he was doing. He could not look around, of course, since each second was priceless just then. Perhaps he understood from some trifling change in the movement of the canoe, when he drew his dripping blade out for another mad plunge, that a new element had taken hold.

And it may have even spurred the brave lad to doing better than before, if such a thing could be.

They were now rapidly approaching the lower end of the island. Bob's eyes were fastened eagerly on that point. The rain had ceased temporarily, and he could see plainly. How he wished he had examined the cross currents there more closely at the time they were leisurely paddling up stream!

There would only be time for about a dozen more quick energetic dips of the paddle. He must make each one tell. After that a great deal would depend on fortune whether they reached that line of foam which marked the edge of the drawback. If they could only attain a lodgment within that charmed half circle, he believed it would be possible to gain the land.

Sandy was working again with feverish anxiety to undo the harm his mistake had wrought.

The newly awakened hope gave him a fictitious strength, and, while the stock of an old flint-lock musket may not be the finest sort of a paddle in the world, there might be things much worse.

Sandy knew they had a chance! He could see the head of the canoe, water-logged though the craft was at the time, and slow to respond to their efforts, turning toward the land, inch by inch.

Yes, surely they were going to make it! If only Bob could keep up his strenuous work a dozen seconds longer all must be well. Once they reached the border of the cross currents, the tug would be relieved wonderfully, and they could urge their unwieldy craft into a harbor!

He knew Bob would rise to the occasion. He could see him settling himself as if to let loose the very last atom of reserve strength there might lurk in his system. Gallant Bob! was his like ever known among the young pioneers of the West? Nothing seemed able to crush his hopeful and determined spirit. What a brother to have; and how Sandy's whole soul seemed to go out to him in that dreadful moment, when their lives hung trembling in the balance!

Trust him for keeping a tight grip on his invaluable blade. There could never happen to wise Bob the same disaster that had overwhelmed Sandy with confusion.

Three of the needed half-dozen sweeps had already been given. And the result seemed to be all that might have been expected, so that Sandy's hopes rose higher with each stroke.

They were gaining--they would make the ripple, and be saved from the horrors that lay further down that swollen stream!

And just when Sandy was about to burst out into a shout of joy, if his spent breath would allow of such a thing, he was suddenly plunged back again into the pit of despair.

For there was an ominous sharp crack, a cry from Bob, and he held up the stump of his broken paddle. It had failed him at the critical moment!

Poor Sandy collapsed when he saw this sight. He dropped his now useless gun in the bottom of the canoe, and cowered there, shutting out the terrible sight of the island slipping past by covering his eyes with his hands.

It had been so nearly accomplished that the catastrophe seemed all the more keen, and he could not bear to look at the receding haven which they had hoped to make their refuge.

Of course now the canoe would be wholly in the power of the victorious current, which must carry it onward like a chip, until shortly the incoming water would attain such a level as to sink the craft. Then--but Sandy could not allow himself to picture what would happen when he and his brother were forced to battle with the cruel giants contained in those leaping waves.

But what was this? Surely there was a jerking motion to the craft that had been missing after Bob's ill-fated paddle broke!

Sandy wonderingly uncovered his eyes. He stared in dismay. Why, where was Bob? The place where he had set while working like a hero was deserted! Had he seen the folly of further resistance, and thrown himself over the side, welcoming the fate that seemed so certain?

Sandy half started up, cold with fear. The boat was still heading toward that end of the island, so close that he could easily have tossed a biscuit on the nearest bushes, half under water now!

Some unseen influence was evidently urging the canoe along its course, just as though a friendly giant, concealed from view under the rushing, tumultuous waters, had decided at the last instant to give the adventurous boys a parting chance.

Then all at once the truth flashed over him. Why, to be sure, it was Bob! He had refused to be utterly cast down by the sudden reverse that snatched away his valuable paddle by snapping it in half. He had instantly plunged over the side of the boat. He was in the water, gripping the hesitating canoe, and striving with all his power to urge it into peaceful waters!

So Sandy again snatched up his abandoned gun, and, dipping the stock deep in the river's foam, strove to add what little assistance he could to the gallant efforts of the boy who would not give in.

Inch by inch they began to win out. Sandy's heart seemed to be in his mouth during that critical period, when the boat actually balanced between two courses. Then, as though Bob had given a last tremendous lunge, it selected the easier alternative, and headed for the point of the island!