The events of the past few days satisfied Ben that they might be attacked at any time, and he wished to provide a way of escape. Just at the foot of the waterfall was a growth of light pine suitable for his purpose. Calling on the others for assistance, all set to work upon the float. The logs were slightly squared, and bound together with tough green withes after a manner much in vogue among the trappers. It was the work of half a day, and as they had little else to do, they gave much care to it. The raft finally was finished and fastened to the shore by a lariat. Ben looked at the structure in some pride. “Did anybody ever go down the river here, father Ben?” said Millicent. “Not often, little gal,” said Ben. “It’s an awful perilous undertakin’, an’ we won’t do it unless we’re driv’ so close we kain’t help it. It’s best to be prepared allers. Leastways I think so.” “Will that raft hold us all?” asked Millicent. “You git on’t, Jan, an’ try.” Jan stepped carefully on the float. Ben stood close to the shore, watching the effect of his weight upon the structure. Jules stood just behind the trapper. Millicent was nearer the river. Bentley had gone into the hut for something they needed. “Jump up an’ down on it,” said Ben. Jan did as he was requested. The next moment there was a loud crack, as of a hawser parting under a heavy strain, and the craft was whirling down the current, out of reach of the men on the shore. Ben darted into the water and made an ineffectual attempt to grasp it, but it was already beyond the utmost stretch of his arm. To their horror they saw their comrade drifting hopelessly down the stream. They looked downward; as far as the eye could reach, the river was hopelessly churned into foam, and gray rocks reared their heads above the water, threatening death to any unfortunate wretch thrown upon them. The bluffs stood out bold and high on either side, and buried the river in from mortal view. In every eddy by the side of these bluffs, the cunning beavers had made their lodges, satisfied that they were safe from their inveterate enemies, the trappers. The Dutchman saw nothing of this; he only saw the foaming river, the brown ledges, and the ragged rocks. From the spot where the raft started, the eddy swept him directly across the stream in the direction of a serrated ledge, which threatened instant destruction. Seated on the narrow craft, grasping it with both hands and ever looking toward the other shore, the unfortunate man set up a cry for help, which pierced brave old Ben to the very heart. He began to throw off his hunting-shirt. Just as he stood, half naked, on the bank, the raft struck the ledge against which it was drifting. Such was the momentum which it had acquired, that it sent Jan flying from the logs, striking the water many feet away. “Alas, alas!” cried Millicent, “he is gone!” “Not yit,” said Ben; “I’m hyar.”