Sandy hurried the finishing of the third paddle. He did not relish the voyage they had before them; but there seemed no other course open. Before starting out they made all things as secure as possible. Hemphill had by this time fully recovered and professed himself not only willing, but able, to do his share of the paddling. The canoe would carry three, though one might find it necessary at times to stop paddling in order to bale out what water dashed over the sides. Bob had taken as good a view as possible of their expected course. As he could not see a great distance down the river he might only surmise what awaited them there. Of course the one prime necessity was to make as quickly as they could toward shore, taking advantage of every eddy to gain a few inches or feet at a time. "I believe I have learned something from our past experience," he remarked, as he took his place in the stern, ready to push off. Sandy occupied the bow, while Silas Hemphill was a fixture in the centre, where he could assist with his blade, or dip water over the side, as occasion arose. "Ready?" asked Bob, trying to appear quite at his ease, though doubtless his heart was thumping at a tremendous rate at the prospect of their once more daring the dangers of the flood. "Yes, push off, Bob!" said Sandy, wonderfully grave, for him. Truth to tell there was no doubt but that every one of them just then was occupied with secretly praying that success might attend their object, and the friendly shore be attained in safety. "Here goes, then!" With the words Bob gave a shove, and the canoe once more danced upon the swollen waters of the furious Ohio. Immediately every paddle was set to work. The boat made a good start, and shot away from the lower end of the island like a thing of life, heading for the southern bank of the river. Then came that strong current, and seized hold. The paddles rose and fell, fast and faster. Muscles were brought to bear that dipped the blades deeply below the surface, and, despite the sweep of the tide, they kept continually edging nearer and nearer the goal for which they were aiming. There was a deep satisfaction in this. It spurred them all on to doing better things. When a wave slopped over the side Silas Hemphill needed no reminder to tell him his duty, but, picking up the little cooking kettle, he started to relieve the canoe of its burden of water. No one said a word. There was scant breath for the work that occupied their attention, not to mention talking. Actions must take the place of conversation at such a time. All the while Bob knew that they were gaining. The shore for a brief space of time stood out more positively than before. True, it was beginning to rain, and coming down harder and harder with each passing moment; but even this could not wholly cast a damper over his satisfaction. "Keep going! All is well!" He managed to shout these few words, feeling that Sandy might be in need of encouragement.