For an instant Adrian closed his eyes that he might not see the end. But—was it inevitable? At the logging camp he had heard of just such accidents as this and not all of them were fatal. The water in its whirling sometimes tossed that which it had caught outward to safety.  
He flung himself and extended the pole. Pierre’s body was making another circuit of that horrible pit and when—if—should it—— The drowning boy’s head was under the current, but his legs swung round upon its surface, faster and faster, as they drew nearer the centre.
 
Then—a ! The long pole was thrust under the invisible arms, which closed upon it as a .
 
[Pg 173]
 
“Hold! Hold! I’ll pull you out!”
 
But for the hard of the past few weeks Adrian’s muscles could not have stood the strain. Yet they did, and as he drew the nearly senseless Pierre upon the rock beside himself his soul went up in such glad thanksgiving as he had never known, or might know again. A life saved. That was worth all things.
 
For an hour they lay there, resting, recovering; then Pierre, himself, stood up to see what chance there was for a fuller deliverance. He was a very sober and altered Pierre, and his clothing added to the forlornness of his appearance.
 
“Nothing left but—us. Came nigh bein’ only you. Say, Adrian, I shan’t forget it.”
 
“How are we going to get ?”
 
“’Tisn’t much harder’n Margot’s stepping-stones. Done them times enough.”
 
Again Adrian was grateful for his forest experience, but he asked with some anxiety:
 
“Suppose you are strong enough to do it?”
 
[Pg 174]
 
“Isn’t any supposin’ about it. Got to. Might as well died in the pool as starve on this rock.”
 
Adrian didn’t see that there was much better than starvation before them even if they did reach shore, but he kept his fear to himself. Besides, it was not probable that they had been saved from the flood to perish in the forest. They would better look at the bright side of the situation, if they hoped to find such.
 
“I can jump them.”
 
“So can I.”
 
“Don’t let go that pole. I mean to keep that as long as I live—’less you want it yourself. If you do——”
 
“No, Pierre, it belongs to you, and doubly now. Which should go first—you or I?”
 
“Draw lots. If that one falls in, the other must fish him out. Only we won’t try it on this side, by the pool.”
 
They carefully surveyed the crossing, almost as dangerous an affair as shooting the [Pg 175]rapids had been. Yet, as Pierre had said, they “had to.”
 
Adrian picked a bit of floating weed that had swept within his reach and broke it into unequal portions. The shortest bit fell to him and with as cheerful a “here goes!” as he could he sprang for the next stone. He made it; more easily than he had hoped, and saw that his best chance lay in looking straight ahead to the next landing-point—and the next—never down at the river.
 
“Landed! Come!”
 
Pierre was heavier but more practiced than his mate, and in a few seconds the two stood together on the shore, regarding the ruins of their boat and thinking of what they would not have for supper.
 
All at once Pierre’s eye brightened.
 
“Say! there’s been a camp here. Not so long ago, either. See that barrel in the brush? There’s an old birch shed yonder. !”
 
They did not linger, though Adrian kept [Pg 176]hoping that something from their lost might be tossed outward toward them, even as Pierre had been; but nothing came in sight and he reached the dilapidated shed only a few feet behind the other.
 
“There’s a bed left still, but not such a soft one. And there’s pork in that barrel. Wonder the hedgehogs haven’t found it.”
 
But as Pierre thrust his nose into the depths of the cask he understood the reason of its safety.
 
“Whew! Even a porkypine wouldn’t touch that! Never mind. Reckon our boots’ll need greasing after that ducking, or mine will, and it’ll answer. Anything under the shed?”
 
“Don’t see anything. Wait. Yes, I do. A canvas bag hung up high. Must have been forgotten when the campers left, for they took everything else, clean sweep. Hurrah! It’s beans!”
 
“Good. Beans are good for hungry cattle.”
 
[Pg 177]
 
“How can you eat such hard things? Should think they’d been resurrected from the Pyramids.”
 
“Well, I don’t know ‘Pyramids,’ but I do know beans, and how to cook them. Fall to. Let’s get a fire. I’m nearly frozen.”
 
“Fire? Can you make one?”
 
“I can try and—— I’ve got to. When needs must, you know.”
 
Adrian hastily collected some dry and decaying chips and heaped them in the sunniest place, but for this was reprimanded by the shivering Pierre.
 
“Don’t you know anything at all? Wood won’t light, nor burn after ’tis lighted, in the sunshine. Stick up something to shade the stuff, whilst——”
 
He what he did not further say, by carefully selecting some hard stones and briskly rubbing them together. A faint spark resulted and a thistle-down caught the spark. To the thistle-down he held a dried grass blade and another. By this small beginning [Pg 178]they had soon a tiny blaze and very soon a comforting fire.
 
When they were dried and rested, said Pierre:
 
“Now, fetch on your beans. While they’re cooking, we’ll take account of what is left.”
 
Adrian brought the bag, refraining from any questions this time. He was wondering and . Pierre’s misadventures were developing unsuspected resources and the spirits of both lads rose again to the normal.
 
“You’re so fond of splitting birch for pictures, split me some now for a bucket, while I sharpen this knife again. Lucky for me my pocket buttoned, else it would have gone to the bottom of that pool. Got yours?”
 
“Yes. I didn’t fall in, you know.”
 
“Then I don’t ask of anybody. I’d rather have a good , but when I can’t get my rather I take the next best thing.”
 
Adrian the strips of birch, which grows so to hand in all that woodland, [Pg 179]and when Pierre had trimmed it into the desired shape he rolled it and tied it with rootlets, and ! there was a shapely sort of kettle, with a for a handle. But of what use it might be the city lad had yet to learn.
 
Pierre filled the affair with water and put into it a good handful of the beans. Then he a crotched stick over his fire and hung the birch kettle upon it.
 
“Oh! don’t waste them. I know. I saw Angelique soak them, as they did at camp. I know, now. If we can’t cook them we can make them up in water, and starving men can exist on such foo............