a
decked canoe, the very daintiest craft any of them had ever seen,
bearing the name _Psyche_ in gold letters on either bow. In it sat a
boy of about Winn's age, urging it forward with vigorous strokes of a
double-bladed paddle.

The raft was close to the levee as he shot alongside.

"Hello!" he shouted; "is this the raft _Venture_?"

"Yes. Are you Worth Manton?"

"No; but I am Sumner Rankin. Worth is down there with his father and
all the hands we could raise, working on the levee; but we are afraid
it can't stand much longer. I have been out here hailing every raft
that passed, and watching for you for the last three days. I'm awfully
glad you've come, for our men are discouraged, and about ready to give
up. Now, perhaps you will help us."

"Of course we will! Come right aboard and show us where to tie up,"
answered Billy Brackett, heartily.

By the time the raft was made fast near the scene of greatest danger,
and Mr. Manton, with Worth, had come aboard, the night was as dark as
pitch. The lanterns of the working gang glancing here and there like
so many fire-flies were feebly reflected in the angry waters that slid
stealthily by with uncanny gurglings and muttered growls.

[Illustration: "The lanterns of the working gang glancing here and
there like fire-flies."]

"If the bank will only hold until morning!" said Mr. Manton, about
midnight, as he and Billy Brackett entered the _Venture's_ cosey
"shanty" for a brief rest. All but these two and Solon were asleep,
laying in a stock of strength for the labors of the next day.

Suddenly there came a frightened shouting from the bank. Then all
other sounds were drowned in the furious roar of rushing waters, while
the raft seemed to be lifted bodily and hurled into space.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

HURLED THROUGH THE CREVASSE AND WRECKED.

During the earlier hours of that eventful night Billy Brackett had
brought all his engineering skill to bear upon the problem of how to
save the Moss Bank levee. His cheery presence, and the evident
knowledge that he displayed, inspired all hands with confidence and a
new energy. Under his direction the raftmates worked like beavers, and
Mr. Manton was more hopeful that the levee could be made to withstand
the terrible pressure of swollen waters than he had been from the
beginning. But it was very old and had been neglected for years. By
daylight the young engineer might have noted its weak spots, and
strengthen