Before the Priest understood the situation, Sorez had bent his bound legs double beneath him and, gripping the tightly bound straw with his heels, shoved with all his strength towards the edge of the raft. The Priest fell atop of him, but instantly tore himself back. The fingers held. Once again Sorez hitched forward and once again the Priest came with him. In a panic the crazed Priest bore his knees down upon the prostrate man and then swung off to one side. But the fingers held. Sorez was now lying with his head half over the edge. The silver waters lipped his gray hair. He raised his legs once more––just once more, and shoved.
He gained an inch. Then in a flash the Priest managed to stand up with Sorez still clinging. But only for a moment, when he fell backwards, striking the back of his head sharply upon the logs. The girl screamed in fright. The Priest saw the world swim 307 before his eyes, and the next second looked up to find a woman––his own daughter––his Jo––looking back at him! But Sorez still clung and still shoved with his legs towards the edge of the boat.
“For God’s sake––what are you about?” gasped he who a moment gone had been the Priest.
Sorez saw nothing of the change. He was busy bending up his legs, digging in his heels, and shoving.
“Father! Father!”
Sorez had heard the cry before. He felt the girl beating at him with her white hands. The raft was beginning to settle. In the heavy fall of the two men a section had been loosened so that now it might possibly hold two of them––no more. The girl realized this; the man realized this. Sorez knew nothing save his determination to drag the Priest to the bottom with him.
“Let him go!” shouted the girl. “Let him go! He is my father! Can’t you hear?”
The words penetrated just as he was about to shove once more.
“Your father?”
“Quick! We are sinking!”