About mid-way of the river, the floating ice came
down with such violence as to threaten the destruction of the raft.

"We can never reach the shore on this craft," said Gist, in a tone
indicating entire resignation to a watery grave.

"Can't we stop the raft and let the ice go by?" answered Washington, at
the same time putting down the setting pole to accomplish this purpose.
But the rapidity of the torrent dashed the raft with such violence
against the pole that it threw Washington into ten feet of water.

"Hold on!" shouted Gist under the greatest alarm; "grasp this oar." And
he reached out his oar to Washington, who had already caught hold of one
of the raft-logs. A severe but short struggle, and he was on the raft
again.

"A cold bath," remarked Washington, as he stood upon the raft again,
shaking the water from his drenched clothes.

"It is a miracle that you were not drowned," replied Gist; "and you
would have been if you were as nervous as some people."

"I am cool enough now," said Washington, his wet clothes already
beginning to stiffen on his back in the wintry blast. "I shall not
despair so long as I remember that one faithful saint is praying for
me," referring to the promise of his mother.

They made a desperate effort to keep their craft right side up in the
floating ice, but failed in the attempt.

"No use!" exclaimed Gist. "We must quit the concern and make for that
island."

"Yes; and that immediately, if we would save ourselves," responded
Washington, as he leaped into the water, followed by Gist. The island
was but a few rods distant, and they reached it just at night, with the
gloomy prospect of remaining shelterless upon it until the next morning.

"Not much better off here than we were in the water," suggested Gist.
"My fingers are frozen, and some of my toes; and what is to prevent the
freezing of the remainder of my body?"

"If we perish, we will perish trying to keep alive," remarked
Washington. "We have plenty of room to exercise ourselves here, and keep
up a circulation, with no fear of being shot at by savages. It will not
do to sleep in this predicament."

"It will be our last sleep if we do," answered Gist. "The cold is
rapidly increasing, and I hardly see how any amount of exercise can save
us."

"Be a little more hopeful, Gist. I have faith to believe that we shall
be saved yet," said Washington. "This increasing cold is providential,
I think. It will freeze the river bef