The roar o' the jam was wild—
When we heerd a cry through the shriekin' night,
An' there on the p'int, in the pale moonlight,
A-wavin' an' yellin' with all her might,
Stood Buck Slack's youngest child.
An' we knowed, without darin' to say the word,
They was tripped fer the Great Unknown,
Fer the gorge had slapped the current round
An' cut 'em off from the higher ground,
An' the hand that could save 'em from bein' drowned