effect. Helplessly,
he looked into the green, whirling depths.

There was only one thing to be done. Taking a long breath, he grabbed
his creese and dived. Down, down; the current pulled and tugged at
him; the rush of sand and mud blinded him, and he was almost swept out
into the river. But he managed to catch hold of the roots that were
twined about the boat and finally cut the banco free. With a bound it
started down the river. The empty shell, at the mercy of the waves,
danced and frolicked like a crazy thing, and Piang was almost stunned
by a blow from the outrigger as it passed him.

The boat was rushing right back into the midst of the crocodiles,
but he bravely struck out after it. There was no chance for him if he
failed to reach it. The whispering rushes and feathery palms at the
water's edge hid evil-smelling mud, festering with fever, the home
of reptiles and crocodiles. Desperately the boy strove to overtake
the boat, and just as he was giving up hope, a friendly snag tempted
the runaway to pause, and Piang's strong, young hand closed over the
outrigger. Then began the task of climbing back. A sudden movement
might release the banco, and it would continue its mad flight, which he
would be powerless to stop. Keeping his eye on the frail-looking snag,
he threw himself on his back in the water and worked his way along the
outrigger as he would climb a tree. Finally his hand touched the body
of the boat, and, cautiously turning over, he sat straddling the bamboo
frame. It was all he could do to keep from jumping into the boat,
but he restrained his impatience and started worming over the side.

Half-way in his heart gave a leap! He could hear the swish-swish of
the water on the other side of the banco as something made its way
toward him. The eddy was the only thing that saved him, for he could
see the dread thing twirling round and round as it tried to reach
him. The boy was almost paralyzed with fear. As long as the crocodile
was on the other side of the boat, he was safe, but now--the snag
creaked, stirred.

Piang made one heroic effort, lifted himself clear of the water,
and fell exhausted into the boat. He was not a moment too soon. The
crunching sound, as the support began to give under the strain, was a
fit accompaniment to the snarling and snapping of the crocodile, which,
deprived of its prey, was lashing the water, trying to reach the frail
outriggers. Piang thought he had never been swept through