We must forbear to picture the acute anguish of these eight men overtaken by a rising inundation. They felt their powerlessness to struggle against these convulsions of nature, superior to human strength. Their safety was no longer in their own hands.
Five minutes after, the horses were swimming, while the current alone carried them along with irresistible force and furious swiftness. All safety seemed impossible, when the voice of the major was heard.
"A tree!" said he.
"A tree!" cried Glenarvan.
"Yes, yonder!" replied Thalcave, and he pointed northward to a kind of gigantic walnut-tree, which rose solitary from the midst of the waters.
His companions had no need to be urged. This tree that was opportunely presented to them they must reach at all hazards. The horses probably could not accomplish the distance; but the men, at least, could be saved,—the current would carry them.
At that moment Tom Austin's horse gave a stifled neigh and disappeared. His rider, extricating himself from the stirrups, began to swim vigorously.
"Cling to my saddle!" cried Glenarvan to him.
"Thanks, my lord," replied he, "my arms are strong."