there was a
chance; but the waters with mad fury dragged their victims back, and,
with terrific power, hurled them forward toward the frowning rocks.

It was quickly over.

In that wild turmoil of the boiling, leaping, seething, lashing,
hammering waves, the boat, with the woman who crouched on her knees on
the bottom, and the man who clung to the side of the craft, appeared for
a second lifted high in the air. The next instant, the crash of breaking
wood sounded above the thundering roaring of the waters. The man and
the woman disappeared. The wreck of the boat was flung again and again
against the cliff, until, battered and broken, it was swept away around
the point.

Against the dark wall of rock Brian Kent's head and shoulders appeared
for an instant, and they saw that he held the woman in his arms. The
furious waters closed over them. For the fraction of a second, the man's
hand and arm appeared again above the surface, and was gone.

Betty Jo sank to the ground with a low cry of anguish, and hid her face.

Another moment, and she was aroused by a loud shout from one of the men
who had caught a glimpse of the river's victims farther out at the point
of the rocky cliff.

Springing to her feet, Betty Jo started madly up the trail that leads
over the bluff. The men followed.

Immediately below Elbow Rock there is a deep hole formed by the waters
that pour around the point of the cliff, and below this hole a wide
gravelly bar pushing out from the Elbow Rock side of the stream forces
the main volume of the river to the opposite bank. In the shallow water
against the upper side of the bar they found them.

With the last flicker of his consciousness, Brian Kent had felt his feet
touch the bottom where the water shoals against the bar, and, with his
last remaining strength, had dragged himself and the body of the woman
into the shallows.

Betty Jo was no hysterical weakling to spend the priceless seconds of
such a time in senseless ravings. The first-aid training which she had
received at school gave her the necessary knowledge which her native
strength of character and practical common sense enabled her to apply.
Under her direction, the men from the clubhouse worked as they probably
never had worked before in all their useless lives.

But the man and the woman whose life-currents had touched and
mingled,--drawn apart to flow apparently far from each other, but drawn
together again to once more touch, and, as