prolonged suspense between. He must sting himself back to the full
possession of his faculties by another burst of fierce effort.
Fiercely he caught at log after log, without a let-up, till, luck
having favoured him for once, he found himself on the inner instead of
the outer edge of the procession. Then an idea flashed into his
fast-clouding brain, and he cursed himself for not having thought of
it before. At the very centre of the eddy, of course, there must be a
sort of core of stillness. By a vehement struggle he attained it and
avoided crossing it. Working gently and warily he kept the log right
across the axis of the eddy, where huddled a crowd of chips and
sticks. Here the log turned slowly, very slowly, on its own centre;
and for a few seconds of exquisite relief Henderson let himself sink
into a sort of lethargy. He was roused by a sudden shot, and the spat
of a heavy bullet into the log about three inches before his head.
Even through the shaking thunder of the cataract he thought he
recognized the voice of his own heavy Colt; and the idea of that tried
weapon being turned against himself filled him with childish rage.
Without lifting his head he lay and cursed, grinding his teeth
impotently. A few seconds later came another shot, and this time the
ball went into the log just before his right arm. Then he understood,
and woke up. Pichot was a dead shot. This was his intimation that
Henderson must get out into the procession again. At the centre of the
eddy he was not sufficiently entertaining to his executioners. The
idea of being shot in the head had not greatly disturbed him--he had
felt as if it would be rather restful, on the whole. But the thought
of getting a bullet in his arm, which would merely disable him and
deliver him over helpless to the outdraught, shook him with something
near a panic. He fell to paddling with all his remaining strength, and
drove his log once more into the horrible circuit. The commendatory
remarks with which Pichot greeted this move went past his ears
unheard.

Up to this time there had been a strong sun shining down into the pot,
and the trees about its rim had stood unstirred by any wind. Now,
however, a sudden darkness settled over everything, and sharp, fitful
gusts drew in through the cleft, helping to push the logs back.
Henderson was by this time so near fainting from exhaustion that his
wits were losing their clearness. Only his horror of the fatal exit,
the raving