In leaning over the bank for a better look, she loosened the undermined mass of snow and together they plunged into the racing river.
“It’s the end,” she told herself in despair as she felt the sting of icy water. “No one can live in such a torrent.”
But what was this? Something touched her cheek. It was Tico. Seeing his mistress adrift, he had plunged boldly in, determined to live or die with her.
“Good old Tico!” Her voice choked. “We’ll die fighting.”
At that she put forth all her strength in an effort to regain the bank.
“But what’s the use?” she thought. “It’s only a steep bank of snow. No one could scale it.”
With that thought, hoping against hope that something might come her way, a log, a snag, an overhanging tree, she gave herself over to drifting and quiet strokes that kept her afloat.
CHAPTER XXI
THE BATTLE OF THE BEARS
Much sooner than Johnny expected, the hunchback awoke. Perhaps the pangs of hunger were making themselves felt. Be that as it may, the night was not half gone when, each armed with a stout bow and a quiver of arrows, they stole out into the vivid moonlight.
“Night hunting,” Johnny thought. “Wonder what sort of game will be afoot at such an hour? Have to be large. Can’t see well enough for snowshoe rabbit or ptarmigan.”