ought had flashed
into Ian's mind--the words "your own unaided hands" troubled him.
Peegwish could be kept out of the boat, but he could not be kept from
rendering aid of some sort, in some way or other. There was but one
resource.

Ian sprang on Peegwish like a lion. The savage was both bold and
strong, but he was elderly, and Ian was young and bolder; besides, he
had the unusual strength of a half-madman at that moment. Down went the
ex-brewer. He struggled hard. Ian crushed him in his arms, raised him,
crammed him into a chair, seized a pliant rope and bound him therewith,
winding him and the chair round and round in his haste--for there was no
time to tie knots--until he resembled a gigantic spool of ravelled
thread. Not a moment too soon! There was a snap outside; the rope was
gone! A grind, a slide, and then a lurch, as of a ship at sea.

Ian is on the staircase now, in the punt, and out upon the flood with a
stout rope fast to the stern and to the door-post. Panting from his
recent exertions, and half-wild with the mingled excitement, danger,
novelty, and fun of the thing, he draws two or three long breaths as he
grasps the sculls and looks quickly round.

The house moves sluggishly, probably retarded by sunken shrubs, or
dragging debris connected with the foundation. This is somewhat of a
relief. There is time. He pulls ahead till the rope tightens, and then
stands up in the punt to observe the situation critically. The current
is bearing him straight towards the knoll. So far well; but there are
two slightly diverging currents on right and left, caused by the knoll
itself, which are so strong that if the house should get fairly into
either of them no power that he possessed could prevent its being swept,
on the one hand, into the main current of the Red River, on the other
hand away over the flooded plains. To watch with lynx eyes the
slightest tendency to divergence on the part of the house now absorbs
his whole being. But thought again intervenes. What if he should be
observed by those at Willow Creek, and they should send assistance?
horror! But by good fortune all the males at the Creek have departed,
and none are left but women. He casts one of the lynx glances in that
direction--no one is coming. He breathes again, freely. Suddenly the
house diverges a little to the right. Away flies the punt to the left,
and he is just about to bend to the sculls with the force of Goliath,
when h