patiently ordered.

"I'm not going," was the reply. "Hustle yourselves."

"Are you crazy, boy? It's sure death down there!"

"Can't help it. I'm goin' to stay."

Donaster was about to further insist, when Bill stepped quickly
forward, shoved him roughly aside, and tore away the rope from its
fastening.

"Leave the fool if he doesn't want to come," he growled. "We can't
waste any more time."

The motor-boat immediately left the "Eb and Flo," and was soon bucking
across the current to the left. Eben watched them as if in a dream.
He felt now that nothing could save him, for no one could go through
the falls at almost low tide, especially on a stone laden boat, and
live. The roar of the leaping waters was pounding in his ears, and the
boat was moving more rapidly than ever. In a few minutes all hope of
rescue would be past, for the tide was now running like a mill-sluice.

Eben was standing near the bow of the boat, his heart beating fast, and
his face white as death. How often he had heard his father tell of the
boats which had gone through the falls, and those on board had never
been heard of again. Great whirlpools below, so it was believed, had
sucked down their bodies into vast underground passages. And soon his
body would be there! The thought was appalling, maddening. His eyes
were riveted upon the breakers ahead. They fascinated him as they
leaped and curled. Their roar sounded like voices of demons, and the
dancing spray appeared like long white curving hands reaching out ready
to grasp their victim.

Suddenly above the thunder of the waters a hoarse blast rent the air.
Eben turned, and as he did so his heart gave a great bound, for there
but a short distance away was a powerful tug. Where she had come from
he did not know. Neither did he care. It was enough for him that she
was near, with men standing on the bow with coils of ropes in their
hands. They shouted aloud, but he could not understand what was said.
The tug was coming across the current, and running a fearful risk in
attempting the rescue. Then a rope was flung across the bow of the "Eb
and Flo," and in a twinkling Eben was upon it. Never in his life had
he pulled so hard and fast, for everything depended upon his efforts
now. How long that rope seemed to be. He could hear the shouts of the
men on the tug, and they seemed to be words of encouragement. The rope
was long, and the warp, for which he was pulling, was dragging