“Don’t be afraid,” he reassured. “I think I can do it, Betty.” “Can’t I help?” “Yes. Knot together two sheets to make a rope. I’ll need it later.” He dropped from a window, found himself caught in an irresistible tide that swept him away like a chip. It was all over in a moment. He was whirled round and dashed into the rocks. The impact knocked the breath out of him. He clung, desperately, to a jutting spar of sandstone, hardly conscious of what he was doing. The life went out of him. When he came to consciousness, he lay on the shelf, feet and legs still in the water. He noticed that his head was bleeding and for an instant wondered what it was all about. Betty’s voice reached him. “Tug! Tug!” She was leaning out of the window of the tossing house. He rose and waved a hand. Strength flowed back to him in waves. The haze lifted from his brain. He visualized the problem of the bridge and set about meeting it. The dead trees on the ledge were young pines. They had been broken off from the roots, probably blown from the crevices because they were insufficiently rooted. He dragged one to the edge of the sloping surface of the boulder and raised it till it was upright. “Back from the window, Betty,” he shouted. Her head and shoulders disappeared. He balanced the tree-trunk carefully, measured the distance again with his eye, and let it fall toward the house. The end of it crashed through the window panes and landed on the casing. Tug dragged forward a second pole, shouted a warning to Betty once more, and balanced the pine carefully. A second later it toppled forward, urged by a slight push, and the butt dropped into the casing beside the others. On this frail bridge Tug crept on hands and knees toward the building. The house tilted down and back. The end of the logs slipped. Betty clung to them, desperately, while Hollister edged forward. “I’ll take that rope,” he told the girl. Mandy handed out the sheets. As the bridge swayed and dipped, he knotted the linen round the logs, tying them together in two places. It was a hazardous business, but he got through with it safely. A few seconds later he was in the bedroom. “Ruth first,” said Betty. Tug nodded. “Tie her to my back. She might get frightened and let loose.” The child whimpered as he crept out upon the logs. “Betty’s coming too in a minute,” her sister called cheerfully. “Just shut your eyes, Ruthie, and hang tight.” The narrow suspension bridge swung dizzily with every lift of the racing flood. Tug inched along, his feet locked together beneath the water that reached for him. Once he lost his balance from a lurch of the logs, but he managed to recover himself. Ruth screamed. “All right, dear,” he told her, and presently was pulling himself upon the rocks. Hollister left the little girl there and recrossed to the building. Betty crawled out on the bridge, the man close behind her.