Jack nodded. With beating hearts and dry mouths, they watched the oncoming trunk. Suddenly it was borne off toward the other bank, out of all reach. A groan from Jack. But an eddy caught it the next instant and sent it hurling back again.
“It’s driving straight for us,” whispered Jack hoarsely.
Tom said nothing, but nodded to show he heard.
On came the tree, but as it was within a hand’s breadth of the rock, another eddy caught it and sent it staggering off again toward the other bank. But the boys were not going to be defeated by such an accident as that.
Bracing themselves, but still crouching so that their heads did not show above the rock, they jumped and landed in the tangle of roots. But, as might have been expected, their sudden weight had the effect of rolling the tree over. Submerged in the boiling current the two boys were hurried along.
Neither of them could tell you to this day how they escaped drowning, but they did.
Breathless, bruised, and with their clothes half torn from their backs, they succeeded in crawling around the roots till their heads were above the water. Helping each other, they struggled like two half-drowned flies till they succeeded in throwing themselves across the log so that it would not tip over completely. From time to time, though, it gave a lurch that threatened to topple them off altogether.
And so, half in and half out of the water, they shot from behind the shelter of the rock.
“Ther they be!” the shout went up from the shore, as Zeb Hunt’s sharp eyes espied the two clinging, half-submerged figures.
“The foxy young varmints! Let ’em hev it, byes!” yelled Simon Lake furiously.