He let go. The Priest sprang to his feet. The canoe had gone and the loosely constructed raft was settling as timber after timber freed itself. Sorez, himself again, saw this. Without a word he shoved once more,––this time himself alone. He went down and the raft floated. He had kept his word after all; he had given the girl her father.
CHAPTER XXVI
A Lucky Bad Shot
As soon as they recovered sufficient strength to desire anything more of life than rest for their bruised and weary bodies, Wilson assumed command of the situation. He saw nothing but a straight path to the girl.
“We must get down to the lake,” he said firmly. “Get down there and find Sorez. If the natives are up in arms, I want to be near the girl. I’m going to take her out of here. If the others refuse to join us, we’ll take her alone and make a dash for it.”
“We oughter get our provisions first,” suggested Stubbs.
“No––what strength we have left is for her.”
“We’ll have twice as much with grub.”