e
opposite shore were clambering on over the choked debris of the flume
that had dammed and diverted the current. It was evident that the same
idea had occurred to them, and they were risking their lives in the
attempt to set free the impediments. Shocked and indignant as Christie
had been at the degrading absorption of material interests at such
a moment, the element of danger lifted the labors of these men into
heroism, and she began to feel a strange exultation as she watched them.
Under the skilful blows of their axes, in a few moments the vast body
of drift began to disintegrate, and then to swing round and move towards
the old channel. A cheer went up, but as suddenly died away again. An
overlapping fringe of wreckage had caught on the point of the island and
arrested the whole mass.

The men, who had gained the shore with difficulty, looked back with a
cry of despair. But the next moment from among them leaped a figure,
alert, buoyant, invincible, and, axe in hand, once more essayed the
passage. Springing from timber to timber, he at last reached the point
of obstruction. A few strokes of the axe were sufficient to clear it;
but at the first stroke it was apparent that the striker was also losing
his hold upon the shore, and that he must inevitably be carried away
with the tossing debris. But this consideration did not seem to affect
him; the last blow was struck, and as the freed timbers rolled on,
over and over, he boldly plunged into the flood. Christie gave a little
cry--her heart had bounded with him; it seemed as if his plunge had
splashed the water in her eyes. He did not come to the surface until he
had passed the point below where her father stood, and then struggling
feebly, as if stunned or disabled by a blow. It seemed to her that he
was trying to approach the side of the river where she was. Would he do
it? Could she help him? She was alone; he was hidden from the view of
the men on the point, and no succor could come from them. There was a
fringe of alder nearly opposite their cabin that almost overhung the
stream. She ran to it, clutched it with a frantic hand, and, leaning
over the boiling water, uttered for the first time his name:

"George!"

As if called to the surface by the magic of her voice, he rose a few
yards from her in mid-current, and turned his fading eyes towards the
bank. In another moment he would have been swept beyond her reach, but
with a supreme effort he turned on one side;