"There! I saw the island, I am sure!" cried Sandy, in a ringing tone. "But the rain has come back, and it is hidden again," he added in disgust.
"Which way?" shouted Bob.
"Over to the right! We must be just a little too far out!" replied Sandy.
"Then let us get to work! Head in toward the shore we have left, and do your very hardest, boy!" cried Bob.
Both of the lads dipped the paddles deeply. As before, they found that it required a giant's strength to accomplish anything worth while when pitted against that tremendous energy contained in the swift-moving flood.
Fortunately Sandy had recuperated in the brief time he had rested from his efforts, so that he was able to do himself credit now, when so much depended on changing their location.
The bare thought of missing the friendly island, and being carried on down that raging torrent, possibly to meet death somewhere below, was enough to make any one, even more tired than Sandy, swing his blade with a vim.
"Oh! we can never do it, Bob!" he gasped.
"Never say die! Keep at it, I tell you! It is our only chance!" was what came back from the other wielder of the spruce paddle.