"Oh!" declared Bob, quickly, "part of it must be, for you remember it had quite a little hill on it." "Yes, yes, for I spoke about the splendid tree that crowned the top, and said how I would like to own a cabin up under its shelter. But perhaps we have gone past the island! That would be terrible, wouldn't it, Bob?" "Surely. But I am positive that is not true. I am looking to see it at any moment now. And, Sandy, just as soon as it comes into view, we must paddle like everything to make it. Once we fly past, and it is all over with us!" The two castaways looked at each other, and each set his teeth with a determination to do wonders should the occasion call for it. "Do you suppose we are anywhere on a line with the island?" asked Sandy, a new fear taking possession of him. Bob shook his head. "I don't know. It is impossible to tell anything in all this noise and confusion. But I think so; I hope so," he replied. Both now settled down to watching the watery vista that stretched beyond. The wind was driving the rain out there on the river, so that at times a curtain seemed to be raised before them, only to fade away as the rain again held up for a brief interval. Bob cast an occasional glance full of apprehension down at the water that was coming into the canoe. He knew that the leak must be growing, slowly but surely. Could they manage to make land before the boat filled and sank under them? "There! I saw the island, I am sure!" cried Sandy, in a ringing tone. "But the rain has come back, and it is hidden again," he added in disgust. "Which way?" shouted Bob. "Over to the right! We must be just a little too far out!" replied Sandy. "Then let us get to work! Head in toward the shore we have left, and do your very hardest, boy!" cried Bob. Both of the lads dipped the paddles deeply. As before, they found that it required a giant's strength to accomplish anything worth while when pitted against that tremendous energy contained in the swift-moving flood. Fortunately Sandy had recuperated in the brief time he had rested from his efforts, so that he was able to do himself credit now, when so much depended on changing their location. The bare thought of missing the friendly island, and being carried on down that raging torrent, possibly to meet death somewhere below, was enough to make any one, even more tired than Sandy, swing his blade with a vim. "Oh! we can never do it, Bob!" he gasped. "Never say die! Keep at it, I tell you! It is our only chance!" was what came back from the other wielder of the spruce paddle. The island could now be plainly seen. It did not look so large by half as when they had seen it on going up the river; but the more elevated parts were standing well out of the flood. On the upper end was a mass of accumulated debris in the shape of stranded trees and logs.