log,
praying that strength might flow back speedily into his veins and
nerves.

Not till he had twice more made the circuit of the pot, and twice more
seen a log sucked out from his very elbow to leap into the white
horror of the abyss, did Henderson stir. The brief stillness,
controlled by his will, had rested him for the moment. He was cool
now, keen to plan, cunning to husband his forces. Up to the very last
second that he could he would maintain his hold on life, counting
always on the chance of the unexpected.

With now just one log remaining between himself and death, he let
himself go past the cleft, and saw that one log go out. Then, being
close to the wall of the pot, he tried to delay his progress by
clutching at the stone with his left hand and by dragging upon it with
his foot. But the stone surface was worn so smooth by the age-long
polishing of the eddy that these efforts availed him little. Before he
realized it he was almost round again, and only by the most desperate
struggle did he succeed in saving himself. There was no other log near
by this time for him to seize and thrust forward in his place. It was
simply a question of his restricted paddling, with hands and feet,
against the outward draught of the current. For nearly a minute the
log hung in doubt just before the opening, the current sucking at its
head to turn it outward, and Henderson paddling against it not only
with hands and feet, but with every ounce of will and nerve that his
body contained. At last, inch by inch, he conquered. His log moved
past the gate of death; and dimly, again, that ironical voice came
down to him, piercing the roar.

Once past, Henderson fell to back-paddling again--not so violently
now--till other logs came by within his reach and he could work
himself into temporary safety behind them. He was soon forced to the
conviction that if he strove at just a shade under his utmost he was
able to hold his own and keep one log always between himself and the
opening. But what was now his utmost, he realized, would very soon be
far beyond his powers. Well, there was nothing to do but to keep on
trying. Around and around, and again and again around the terrible,
smooth, deliberate circuit he went, sparing himself every ounce of
effort that he could, and always shutting his eyes as the log beside
him plunged out into the sluice. Gradually, then, he felt himself
becoming stupefied by the ceaselessly recurring horror, with the