The bough was of no great size, but about a couple of yards away there was one far larger, and, waiting for a few minutes longer, till the heavy beating of his heart subsided and he could breathe more easily, he gradually lowered himself toward the greater bough by relinquishing his hold upon its fellow to which he clung. It was a horrible sensation, though, for it seemed to give the water greater power to drag and snatch at him, and for some little time he dared not quit his hold. But at last he ventured with one hand, got a firm grip of a moderate bough, and before he could loosen his grasp with the other he felt a violent shock: it was torn away, and he was swept over the submerged twigs, having hard work to get a fresh hold. Then the water passed over him, for quite a wave had descended the river at that moment, whose impetus, and the jerk given to the tree, was too much for its stability. Already undermined by the furious rush of the flood, that new leverage at the end of the longest bough was enough, and its top came slowly down overhead, while the bough to which the lad clung slowly sank. Once more the instinct of self-preservation helped, and, quitting his hold, he allowed himself to be carried downward by the current as the top boughs splashed up the water not a yard behind. How long his new struggle lasted he could not tell; all he knew was that he was being borne along the furious river at racing speed, having hard work to keep his head above water and avoid the various objects which cumbered the stream. But he swam bravely from time to time, gazing wildly at the trees he passed standing deeply in the tide as he was borne from side to side, till at last, with his senses beginning to fail, and the water rising higher and higher above his chin, a dim sensation of its being time to relax his efforts dawned upon him, in company with a strange drowsiness, just as he felt a heavy, sickening shock, which had the effect of making coruscations of light flash before his eyes; then he flung out his arms wildly, roused to renewed action for a few moments by the blow, and lastly all was blank. CHAPTER TWELVE. A HARD FIGHT. Richard Frayne opened his eyes, to gaze about him dreamily for some little time before he could grasp what had happened and where he was. Then a throbbing in his head and a sensation of smarting assailed him, but he did not stir, for his legs were cramped; and _wash, wash, wash_, the waters were sweeping along nearly to his chest. At last, with a bound, full consciousness returned, and he realised that he was lying wedged in amongst a pile of broken woodwork, evidently a great shed or barn which had been swept down the river till its progress had been checked by a clump of elm-trees, and the force of the water had rent it up and piled the broken posts and rafters, driving them, and pressing them by its weight into a chaotic mass, over and through which the torrent rushed.