The force of the wind and waves dashing in his face almost took his breath away; his muscles ached, but he held on to white-faced Tommy Clifton with a grip which could not be broken.
"Why don't they come?" he murmured. Then he managed to turn, and, with a great effort, glance over the crests of the gray, storm-swept waves.
"Great Scott!"
An icy chill swept through him. Instead of the "Speedy" being close at hand and coming to their assistance, the instantaneous glance showed him a boat bottom up, with several figures clinging to it.
[CHAPTER XXIII]
CANYON RIVER
The accident had thrown the Ramblers into such consternation that for an instant all seemed incapable of action.
But the seriousness of their situation demanded immediate attention. The "Speedy" had already passed the passageway, and each moment the current of Canyon River and the wind were dragging it nearer the dreaded gorge.
Bob Somers was the first to arouse himself. The yell of Tommy Clifton seemed to be still ringing in his ears. He grasped the tiller.