"Now or never!" were his thoughts. "For home and Deb!"
He flung his body to one side where a sharp rock stuck out of the water but a few inches, and, half turning, he threw his arm partly over it.
His feet were swept from under him, and as the cord upon his wrists still refused to part, his shoulder was nearly dislocated by the strain that was thus brought to bear.
Beside the sharp rock was another, and drawing a long breath, he gradually worked his way until he lay flat upon its surface.
This new resting place was not more than seven feet in length by three in width, yet to Jack it seemed a perfect island, so much more preferable was it to the cold water of the stream.
The young machinist lay quiet for a long time.
He was utterly exhausted, and it was no easy task to recover the wind that had been knocked out of him.
After a while, he turned over and sat up. He was afraid to try standing, fearful of losing his footing.
In the semi-darkness he calculated that the rocks leading to either shore were fully fifteen or twenty feet away--a distance which, in such a place as this, was as bad as a mile, so far as reaching them was concerned.
"If it was only a little lighter I might throw out the rope and catch fast somewhere," he said to himself. "As it is, I suppose I'll have to wait till morning."