Then the wind blew the flame so that the face of Mark was illumined. Suddenly Tiger Ki snatched his hand back again.
'A Runham—no!'
He endeavoured by a frantic effort to ascend the bank by his own efforts. There ensued a terrible scene—the struggle of a well-nigh spent man with the adverse elements to deliver himself from his position. He fought with the water and the clay, tossing a spray about him, pounding with his feet, one shod, the other bare, churning clay and water around him.
Failing to mount one step above where the flail was rooted, he discontinued his profitless effort, and, clinging with both hands to the stay, cried—
'Zita, I will owe life to you, or to none!'
Without a thought for herself, the girl leaped to his aid.
In a moment his disengaged arm was round her.
'We may die—if we cannot live—together.'
'Let go!' shouted Mark, and laid hold of Zita by the arm. 'Let go!'