nnel. Straws would have availed nearly as much; far faster than she
went in shore she drove down stream. It was getting to be morning
twilight all below; a soft, damp wind was blowing in her face; in the
distance she could see, like the changing outline of a phantom, a low
cloud of mist, wavering now on this side, now on that, but forever
rising and falling and hovering before her. She knew what it was. If she
could only bring her boat to that bank,--precipice though it was,--there
must be some broken piece to catch by! She toiled with all her puny
strength, and the great stream laughed at her and roared on. Suddenly,
what her wildest efforts failed to do, the river did itself,--dividing
into twenty currents for its plunge, some one of the eddies caught the
old scow in its teeth and sent it whirling along the inmost current of
all, close upon the shore. The rock, whose cleft the river had
primevally chosen, was here more broken than above; various edges
protruded maddeningly as Flor skimmed by almost within reach. Twice she
plucked at them and missed. One flat shelf, over which the thin water
slipped like a sheet of molten glass, remained and caught her eye; she
was no longer cold or stiff with terror, but frantic to save herself; it
was the only chance, the last; shooting by, she sprang forward, pole in
hand, touched it, fell, caught a ledge with her hands while the fierce
flow of the water lifted her off her feet, scrambled up breathlessly and
was safe, while the scow swept past, two flashing furlongs, poised a few
moments after on the brink of the fall, went majestically over, and came
up to the surface below in pieces.

Flor wrung her hands in dismay. She had not understood her situation
before. There was no escape now, it seemed,--not even to return. Nothing
was possible save starving to death on this ledge,--and after that, the
vultures. She sat there for a little while in a kind of stupor. She saw
the light falling slowly down, as it had fallen millions of mornings
before, and bringing out all blue and purple shadows on the wet old
rock; she saw the current ever hurrying by to join the tumult of the
cataract; she heard the deep, sweet music of the waters like a noisy
dream in her ears. With the shock of her wreck coming at the instant
when she fancied herself so swiftly and securely speeding on towards
safety and freedom, she felt indifferent to all succeeding fate. What if
she did die? who was she? what was she?