"He's a fool!"
"He'll drown, an' the girl, too!"
"It's caught—he'll overtake her!"
A devilfish-like snag held tree and burden. With a burst of speed Philip swam alongside. Winifred? Thank God! Still alive, although unconscious; face white, eyes closed. As he grasped her, her eyes opened.
After the excitement, the shouts and the cursings, the crashing of wood and the fighting, quiet reigned on the Far West.
Robert Burroughs, sitting in the long northern twilight, rubbed his sore muscles while Scar Faced Charlie and the doctor paced the deck.
"Danvers did a big thing. He saved my sister's life. I'll never forget it. If the time ever comes I'll do as much for him," declared Charlie.
"Perhaps you may," mused the doctor. "We can never tell what the future holds. Perhaps you'll not save his life, but life isn't everything. He may ask you to do something that you won't want to do."
The grating of the steamer on a sand-bar interrupted him.