The crash and roar, the blinding mist and spinning eddies, the arrow-like descent, these were enough to drive all the wits from a man’s brain, and the boy had hardly thrown himself into the vortex when the conviction flashed upon him, that the strange boy was not only past all hope but that he had put himself in the same position by his mad plunge into the water, in the hope of rescuing him. But Little Rifle was too brave a lad to yield up his life without a struggle, and, with all the strength and skill of which he was master, he made a desperate effort to get his face to the surface only for a second--a single instant--that he might gain a single breath of the all-revivifying air. CHAPTER VIII. OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH. At this instant, while Little Rifle was making such a tremendous effort to save himself, his shoulder struck something. He supposed that it was the canoe, or that he had grazed a rock in his meteor-like passage through the water; but, the wild hope that it was neither of these, caused him to throw out his arm and clutch at it. As he did so, he found that he had grasped the arm of the boy, for whose sake he had made this desperately perilous attempt. Having got it in his grasp, Little Rifle did not let it go again, but held to it, as though his own life depended upon the result, while, with the other arm and his feet, he redoubled his efforts to make the surface of the turbulent current. The very velocity of the sorely-pressed stream was in favor of the lads, as it carried them speedily into water heavy enough to afford a swimmer support; but, before this was done, and when the brave rescuer felt that he could hold out no longer, he brought himself and his burden to the top of the water. Even in this critical, this fearful moment, when it seemed that his own body would burst with agony, Little Rifle made certain that his companion was given the same blessed privilege before he availed himself of it. He saw him start and gasp, he felt the arm which was in his grasp feebly start or struggle, and then, with the lungs of both filled with the delicious life-giving air, they went down again. In that momentary sight that Little Rifle had gained of the face of the boy, during the single instant that it remained above the water, he caught sight of a red spot of blood upon the forehead, which showed that he was hurt and bleeding very fast, else the crimson current could not have shown itself so quickly. In a shorter period than before, the two came to the top of the water again, and Little Rifle, with a thrill of hope, found that they were beyond the light, fleecy foam, and were speeding downward through water in which he was able to support both himself and his charge.