On he swept with ever-increasing speed. The lofty brink was only a hundred feet away--now it was seventy-five--now fifty!
With a terrible cry he flung himself back, as if to ward off that which was inevitable.
Stop--what was this? The cord that was dragging behind him tightened; it grew tighter still--it stopped his progress!
"If it only holds!" was his one thought.
He waited, and looked back to see how the hemp had become fastened, but the surface of the water was without a break.
It held, and as it gradually tightened more and more, there slowly arose to the top, the limb of a huge tree that had probably been carried down the stream by the spring freshet.
The knot at the end of the rope had dragged itself fast in a notch between two of the smaller branches, and before it could loose itself, Jack caught the larger branch, and locked his feet tightly around it.
His weight threw the tree still more on its side, and this placed him high and dry several feet above the surface, and about a rod above the falls!
The position was a terrifying one. It made him dizzy to look at the boiling water as it fell, and the vortex below was awful to contemplate.
"I suppose this tree won't stick fast forever," he thought, "and even if it does, how can I ever hope to reach shore from here?"