He struggled valiantly to strike across the current, for he must reach the rock or be carried down the river to sure death. We looked on in fascinated terror.
Nothing but his extraordinary strength saved Jim at this juncture. As he was being dashed past the rock he threw out one hand and grasped the edge of it, then the water slammed him against it with great force.
For the moment he seemed stunned, but he clung to the rock as the player in a big game does to the ball as he goes over the line.
"Hold on, Jim, tight," we yelled.
We saw his muscles strain as he pulled himself slowly out of the hungry water. Then he reached the inclined surface of the rock and fell forward, all curled up like a man who is knocked out on the football field.
We were pretty well frightened and Tom thought he was done for, but I felt sure that Jim would come around in a few minutes. We did not have to wait long before Jim sat up. He gave his head a shake and was himself again.
"Don't try it," he yelled to us. "You can't monkey with this river."
He need not have warned us, for neither one of us was likely to try the experiment. How was Jim to get off that rock? was the question. It was impossible for him to take to the stream again, nor was the rock a desirable permanent residence.
In a minute Jim began to dance around on the rock, and we thought at first it was his exuberant spirits. But this was not the case.
"Gee, boys!" he yelled. "This rock is hot, get me off quick before I become a cinder. What are you waiting for? Get me a rope."