The boat glanced with a hard grind on a rock and shot down a long
yellow incline; a great curling wave whirled back on Lane; a heavy
shock sent him flying from his seat; a gurgling demoniacal roar
deafened his ears and a cold eager flood engulfed him. He was drawn
under, as the whirlpool sucks a feather; he was tossed up, as the wind
throws a straw. The boat bobbed upright near him. He grasped the
gunwale and held on.

It bounced on the buffeting waves and rode the long swells like a
cork; it careened on the brink of falls and glided over them; it
thumped on hidden stones and floating logs; it sped by black-nosed
rocks; it drifted through fogs of yellow mist; it ran on piles of
driftwood; it trembled with the shock of beating waves and twisted
with the swirling current.

Still Lane held on with a vise-like clutch.

Suddenly he seemed to feel some mighty propelling force under him; he
rose high with the stern of the boat. Then the bow pitched down into a
yawning hole. A long instant he and the boat slid down a glancing
fall--then thunderous roar--furious contending wrestle--cold, yellow,
flying spray--icy, immersing, enveloping blackness!

A giant tore his hands from the boat. He whirled round and round as he
sank. A languid softness stole over him. He saw the smile of his
mother, the schoolmate of his boyhood, the old attic where he played
on rainy days, and the spotted cows in the pasture and the running
brook. He saw himself a tall young man, favorite of all, winning his
way in life that was bright.

Then terrible blows of his heart hammered at his ribs, throbs of
mighty pain burst his brain; great constrictions of his throat choked
him. He began fighting the encompassing waters with frenzied strength.
Up and up he fought his way to see at last the light, to gasp at the
air. But the flood sucked at him, a weight pulled at his feet. As he
went down again something hard struck him. With the last instinctive
desperate love of life in his action he flung out his hand and grasped
the saving thing. It was the boat. He hooked his elbow over the
gunwale. Then darkness filmed over his eyes and he seemed to feel
himself whirling round and round, round and round. A long time,
seemingly, he whirled, while the darkness before his eyes gave way to
smoky light, his dead ears awoke to confused blur of sound. But the
weight on his numb legs did not lessen.

All at once the boat grated on a rock, and his knees struck. He lay