But instead of freshening, the wind, which was making the leaves quiver ashore, seemed to be growing fainter and fainter as they came nearer to the thundering falls, for it was plain enough that in spite of all their efforts the current was the stronger, and that it was only a question of time before the pulling of the men would become weaker and the boat would be drawn right on and on into the churned-up foaming water, and then-- CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. STARING AT DEATH. It was too horrible to think of, and Brace, to keep out of his brain the mental picture of the swamped boat, the thundering water beating them down into the awful chaos, and the shudder-engendering ideas connected with the fierce fish waiting to attack and literally devour them alive, changed his position so as to kneel down in the bottom of the boat, facing the second oarsman, lay his hands upon the oar, and help every pull with a good push. Briscoe followed his example, and the strength of six was thus brought to bear upon the oars. For a few minutes this extra effort seemed to have supplied all that was necessary, and as the men saw that they were beginning to draw a little away from the falling water they burst out simultaneously with a hearty hurrah, one that seemed to give fresh energy to the rowers. But it sounded feeble, hushed, and smothered as it were by the increasing roar of the falling water, ever growing into an overpowering, muffled thunder. Still there was the fact that wind and muscle were stronger than the current, and the boat was steadily drawing away as they advanced in their tack towards the farther shore. On the strength of this and to save losing ground in turning to go upon the next tack, Lynton kept on, and shouted an encouraging word or two from time to time. "Bravo! All together! Now you have it! Well rowed, boys! Put your backs into it! You'll fetch it! British muscle and British pluck for ever! Never say die, lads! That's your style! Keep it up! Well done, Mr Brace! Well done, Mr Briscoe! Well done all! Ah-h-h!" This last sounded like a snarl from the mate--it was uttered fiercely, and was long-drawn-out and savage in the extreme. But he felt that he had made a mistake, and he now roared: "Go on--go on! Don't stop to look round you. Keep on rowing for your lives, lads, and we'll do it yet!" He was just in time, for the men's efforts had begun to slacken and something of a panic was setting in amongst them. Everyone grasped the fact that the long reach they were now making had been a terrible error. It had brought them closer in than ever to the high mass of rocks over which the upper portion of the river was precipitated.