ried out, a desolate and hungry cry,
for he had wrenched his mouth from hers. She could feel the inner man
abruptly withdrawn, concentrated elsewhere. She opened her eyes upon an
appalling radiance wherein his face stood out clear, incredulous, then
suddenly eager and resolute.

"It's a headlight!" he cried. "A train! Look, Io! The mainland. It's
only a couple of rods away."

He slipped from her arms, ran to the boat.

"What are you going to do?" she called weakly. "Ban! You can never make
it."

"I've got to. It's our only chance."

As he spoke, he was fumbling under the seat. He brought out a coil of
rope. Throwing off poncho, coat, and waistcoat, he coiled the lengths
around his body.

"Let me swim with you," she begged.

"You're not strong enough."

"I don't care. We'd go together ... I--I can't face it alone, Ban."

"You'll have to. Or give up our only chance of life. You must, Io. If I
shouldn't get across, you may try it; the chances of the current might
help you. But not until after you're sure I haven't made it. You must
wait."

"Yes," she said submissively.

"As soon as I get to shore, I'll throw the rope across to you. Listen
for it. I'll keep throwing until it strikes where you can get it."

"I'll give you the light."

"That may help. Then you make fast under the forward seat of the boat.
Be sure it's tight."

"Yes, Ban."

"Twitch three times on the rope to let me know when you're ready and
shove out and upstream as strongly as you can."

"Can you hold it against the current?"

"I must. If I do, you'll drift around against the bank. If I don't--I'll
follow you."

"No, Ban," she implored. "Not you, too. There's no need--"

"I'll follow you," said he. "Now, Io."

He kissed her gently, stepped back, took a run and flung himself upward
and outward into the ravening current.

She saw a foaming thresh that melted into darkness....

Time seemed to have stopped for her. She waited, waited, waited in a
world wherein only Death waited with her.... Ban was now limp and
lifeless somewhere far downstream, asprawl in the swiftness, rolling a
pasty face to the sky like that grisly wayfarer who had hailed them
silently in the upper reach of the river, a messenger and prophet of
their fate. The rising waters eddied about her feet. The boat stirred
uneasily. Mechanically she drew it back from the claim of the flood. A
light blow fell upon her cheek and neck.

It was the rope.

Instantly and in