Once more the few remaining things were placed as securely as was possible on the raft.
Again, and without the wondering of the day before, Ike and Wah Shin imitated Sam by tying themselves to the raft.
With much of that feeling of desperation that stirs an officer who leads his men in a hopeless assault against a powerful enemy, Sam pushed the raft into the stream.
The current near the shore was slow, but as they got out further it became more rapid, until at length they shot down with the speed of a race-horse for the white line of foam that flashed between the grim walls like the teeth of some fierce monster set in lips of stone.
"Cling tight to the raft, boys!" cried Sam, as the logs began to groan and tremble. "Cling fast and keep cool! We are going through all right!"
The brave fellow did not have much faith in his own words, but they had an inspiriting effect on the others.
Into the warring rapids shot the raft, and in an instant all were drenched in the spray that dashed around them.
Sam could not see ten feet ahead.
His mind, like the waters and the raft, was in a wild whirl; yet, with the grip of a drowning man, he clung to the logs and tried to shout words of cheer to the others.