The boat lay anglewise, so that the current worked upon her quarter. Seeing a fair opening, Joe urged the rowers to do their utmost. So hard did they pull that the current, playing upon her quarter as she hung a few minutes stationary, forced her through the gap and towards the tree. The manoeuvre was splendidly executed. The boat was now within five yards or so of the tree, the boys putting every ounce of strength into their strokes. A minute or less now and they will either be fast to the tree or drifting down on to a solid block of timber just below.
Yellow Billy, who had crouched in the bow, now rose up quietly, rope in hand, ready to act promptly in the decisive moment. By good fortune a limb projected about five feet above the water, and branched out some distance from the tree. Joe worked the boat straight up-stream, and then called on the rowers to ease the barest trifle. The craft swung very slowly down, until she was fairly under the limb.
"Sling the painter over the branch an' make fast, Billy!" cried Joe, as the stern drifted under. "Pull now, you beggars, a last spurt!"
Billy whipped the rope round the limb, and made fast in a flash; the rowers, by a few desperate strokes, keeping the boat stationary.
"Hold her there a second. Let the loop lie loose an' edge it to the trunk, Billy!"
Joe thus worked the boat over until she was just at the rear of the tree.
"Ease her off gently now, boys. Steady still! A wrench might snap the painter."
The boys accordingly eased off gradually, and finally stopped.
"Two of you come aft, it'll ease the strain."
This done, the boat, which by burying her nose deep in the water was straining heavily on the rope, trimmed herself, and offered but the minimum resistance to the racing waters.