t had
happened: the loaded sledge had sunk to the bottom of the river-bed,
and was holding down the four rear-dogs by their traces; but the
leader, by struggling, had fought his way to within a few inches of
the outer air, and, clinging on to Strangeways' throat and breast, was
fiercely striving to climb up him with his teeth to where breathing
might be found, in somewhat the same manner as Archbishop Salviati did
in Florence to Francesco Pazzi, when the Gonfalonier hurled them both
out of the Palazzo window, each with a rope about his neck.

(Strange what men will think of at a crisis! Granger was grimly
amused, and half-disgusted with himself. How absurd that of all things
at such a time he should have remembered that!)

The weight of the four rear-dogs and the loaded sledge were gradually
dragging the leader down, and, with him, Strangeways. He held on
desperately; now and then, as he made a fresh effort, his yellow snout
would appear above the water or the top of his yellow head--except for
that, he might not have been there. But Granger was intent on
Strangeways; staring into his eyes, which were distant the length of
his arm out-stretched, he was appalled at the consternation they
reflected, and the evident terror of the end. If he could only get at
his knife, he might be able to effect something; but his knife was
beneath his capote, in his belt, and both his hands were occupied,
the one with supporting the drowning man, the other with preventing
himself from slipping further.

He wanted to speak to Strangeways, but he could not think of any words
which were not so trivial as to sound blasphemous on such an occasion.
The man was growing weaker and heavier to hold; his eyes were losing
their vision, and the water rose in bubbles from his mouth. There was
only one last chance, that if he could support him long enough for the
husky at his throat to release his grip and die first, he might be
able to drag him out.

Though all this had been the work of only a few seconds, his arm was
becoming numb and intolerably painful. Whatever it might cost him, he
promised himself that he would not let go till hope was at an end. He
was slipping forward again; he would soon overbalance. But what did
that matter to one who did not fear death? After all, an honourable
out-going is the best El Dorado which any man can hope to find as
reward for his long life's search. If he were to die for and with
Strangeways, he would at leas