ing one end and the water rushing in a torrent over the other.
For the moment the boy could do little but hold fast, but as his breath came back to him he climbed on top of the tree and took a look at the situation.
It was truly a dismaying one. He was in the very center of the rapids, and the shore on either side of him was fifty to sixty feet away.
"How am I ever to get to the bank?" he asked himself. "I can't wade or swim, for the current is far too strong. I'm in a pickle, and no mistake. I wonder if Dick and Tom are on solid earth yet?"
He raised his voice into a shout—not once, but several times. At first only the echoes answered him, but presently came a reply from a distance.
"Sam! Sam! Where are you?" It was Dick calling, and he was running along the bank alone, Tom being too exhausted to accompany him.
"Here I am—in the middle of the falls!"
"Where?"
"Out here—in the middle of the falls!"
"Great Cæsar, Sam! Can't you wade ashore?"
"No; the current is so strong I am afraid to try."
