The child whimpered as he crept out upon the logs.
“Betty’s coming too in a minute,” her sister called cheerfully. “Just shut your eyes, Ruthie, and hang tight.”
The narrow suspension bridge swung dizzily with every lift of the racing flood. Tug inched along, his feet locked together beneath the water that reached for him. Once he lost his balance from a lurch of the logs, but he managed to recover himself. Ruth screamed.
“All right, dear,” he told her, and presently was pulling himself upon the rocks.
Hollister left the little girl there and recrossed to the building. Betty crawled out on the bridge, the man close behind her.
She looked down, and was appalled. The pour of the stream that was so close carried the power of a mountain river in flood. Her body swayed. She could never get across—never in the world.
The voice of her lover came, strong and comforting. “Steady, Bess. We’re all right.”
His assurance went through her veins like wine. Tug was behind her. Of course, they would reach the rocks.
The logs dipped almost to the water at the middle. A monster that seemed to be alive dragged at her feet.
“Oh, Tug!” she cried.