low curved away from the house a great deal. He was tempted, time
after time, to jump into the boat and pull straight across, but he knew
that if the force of the current drifted him below the house, he could
never hope to go upstream against it. His only chance was to make sure
that he could reach the middle of the torrent above the house and drift
right down upon it. A few yards' extra leeway would enable him to steer
his cranky craft to the desired spot. So, though it seemed to him as if
he were going away from Anton, and though, indeed, he was now so far
away that the crippled boy's shouts no longer could be heard, Ross stuck
to his intentions, and, still wading, pushed the little craft up-stream.

Rex protested vigorously. He ran back from the bow and looked into
Ross's face with a reproachful and almost angry bark, as much as to say:

"You silly! Can't you tell what I brought you here for?"

The boy knew better than the dog.

"Lie down!" he ordered sharply.

Rex, understanding in a doggish way that he was in the wrong somewhere,
went back to his post in the bow, where he stood dejectedly, his tail no
longer at the jaunty angle than it had been before.

At last Ross felt that he had reached a point high enough up the flooded
bank to justify him in the attempt to get across. He jumped into the
home-made skiff, and, setting his strength to the clumsy oars, began to
pull with all his might.

He had not over-estimated the force of the current. As the light craft
got into the swirl, the black water caught it like a feather. Ross
pulled with all his might, but the banks slipped by as though he were in
tow of one of the river steamboats. Never had the boy tugged at a pair
of oars as he did now, and never had he so wished for a good boat and
for real oars. He was only two-thirds of the distance across to the
house when it came into sight, only a little distance below him.

He would not reach it!

With the energy of despair, Ross tugged on his oars, every muscle of his
body tense with the strain.

Rex, divining the struggle, stood silent, not looking forward over the
bow as he had been doing, but watching his master as he toiled with his
oars.

Then, out from the darkness, shot the long black menace of a floating
tree trunk. Straight for the boat it sped.

From the window, now close at hand, came a cry:

"Look out, Ross! Look out!"

Ross saw the danger. He knew, if he backed water, or halted long enough
to