The rocks seemed to grow more slippery, more slimy as he went on. The mud banks seemed to slide in upon him. He had to turn back once, just in time to avoid a patch of ooze. He imagined that the shore receded, or that he stood still and moved his feet in one spot. But he fought that notion and forced himself to believe that he was making time against the small, devouring flood that was racing down at him. He kept telling himself that the water had twice as far to travel in order to engulf him as he must go to escape it. He was right. The water had farther to travel, and he made time. Indeed, the spectators swore that he made a new record for speed. Running with two hundred pounds on his back was a feat for any man on smooth going, they told him. Over that course, it was not an achievement at all; it was a miracle. However that may be, Rawley used his last ounce of energy to reach the bank. A gloved hand reached down and caught him. Its mate seized the other wrist. He gave a final dig with his toes and a scrambling wriggle, and crawled up as some one pulled Peter off his back and the small torrent swept past. On a shelf of rock above the watermark he lay back for a minute to breathe before he essayed to climb the high bank. He looked down at the rush of water, his eyes wide. “Lord, I thought it was the whole river coming at me!” he panted disgustedly, looking up into the face of the Governor, whose hand had reached down to him. “Why, I could jump that,--almost.” “Hardly, with a load,” the Governor retorted. “And then, the whole dam may give way at any moment, now it has started.” Peter stirred and struggled to sit up. His dazed eyes went down to the new torrent. The sight stung him to full consciousness. He came up like a lion wounded but full of fight. “Come on! We’ve got to shoot in that auxiliary dam,” he shouted thickly. “I--was going to--anyway. And let this flood down--easy.” CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO ANOTHER RESCUE “Going to try for a rescue of the--body?” Jerry Newton looked up from fussing with one of the best small cameras on the market to-day. He had “got” that dramatic race with the flood, and he made no apologies for his enterprise. It was his business to get such scenes. The Governor pressed his lips together and pointed downward. “We’re going to save the living,” he said. “Where’s that doctor?” A shrewd-eyed, tanned man was already feeling of Peter’s skull with finger tips that seemed to own a detached intelligence. “Just a simple contusion,” he announced cheerfully. “Put you to sleep for a minute, though, didn’t it? Here. I’ll fix you up in two shakes so you’ll feel like new. Let’s have a look at your chest.” In five minutes Peter was standing steadily on his own feet, ready to go. Rawley caught his somber glance at the place where Old Jess had disappeared and shook his head, unconsciously aping the Governor.