n his steps were arrested
by a second shout from the pilot-house, and another sound that smote on
his ear like a death-knell. It was the hoarse note of a deep-toned
whistle apparently at his side. There was a jangling of bells, a wild
yelling, the roar of escaping steam, and then the dim form of a great
up-river packet loomed above the little craft on which he stood like
some awful fog monster intent upon its destruction.

The man stood at the head of the steps leading down into the
living-room, where Sabella, unconscious of the impending peril, was
singing a quaint old hymn as she set the table for dinner. He had
heard his mother sing that hymn when he was a boy at home. So long
ago, and so far away. A second more and this sweet young life would be
blotted out, and the little body, crushed beyond recognition, would be
buried deep beneath the waters of the great river, while he would be
safe on the lower deck of that steamboat. He could easily spring to it
from the upper deck of the _Whatnot_, as he saw Plater and Grimshaw
were about to do.

"I promise to see you safe with your friends again." That was what he
had said, and it was to that child he had said it. In another instant
the man had entered the living-room, seized Sabella in his powerful
arms, and had gained the outer door on the side farthest from the
steamboat.

Then came the shock. There was a moment of horrible grinding,
crashing, and splintering, a mad surging of brown waters, and then the
little showboat passed beneath the monster that had crushed out its
life. It was gone as utterly as the flame of a candle is extinguished
by a puff of wind, and the great river was its grave, as it has been of
thousands of other craft, and will be of thousands yet unbuilt.

CHAPTER XXVII.

IS THIS OUR RAFT OR NOT?

So anxious was Winn Caspar for the recovery of the raft lost through
his carelessness and over-confidence in his own ability that, having
found it again, he could not bear to lose sight of it, even though he
had no idea of how he might regain its possession. Therefore, as he
stepped ashore after his rebuff by Grimshaw, he only went so far up the
trail through the timber as to be concealed from the man's view. Then
he darted into the undergrowth and crept back to the river-bank. He
reached it just in time to see Grimshaw lock the door of the "shanty,"
leave the raft, and start up the trail that he himself had taken but a
minute before.