They quickened their pace and easily forded the first arm of the stream. But in the effort that Emile's horse made to climb the somewhat steep bank of the little island, he broke his girths, and his rider had to dismount and try to fix his saddle. It was not an easy task, and in his haste to join his parents Emile bungled over it; the knot that he had made slipped when he put his foot in the stirrup, and Charasson was obliged to cut off a piece of the rope he was using for a bridle in order to make the necessary repairs. All this took some time, during which their attention was wholly diverted from the disaster Sylvain dreaded. The island was covered with a dense growth of willows which made it impossible for them to look ten yards in any direction. Suddenly a noise like the prolonged rumble of thunder reached their ears. Emile, mistaking the cause of the noise, looked up at the sky, which was perfectly clear overhead. But the child turned pale as death. "The _dribe_!" he cried, "the _dribe_! we must run for it, monsieur!" They crossed the island at a gallop; but before they were clear of the willow scrub, they were met by waves of yellowish water covered with foam. It was already up to their horses' breasts when they found themselves face to face with the swollen torrent, which was spreading furiously over the surrounding country. Emile would have attempted to cross; but his guide clung to him. "No, monsieur, no," he cried; "it's too late. See the force of the stream and the logs it's bringing down! No man or beast could go through that. Let us leave the horses, monsieur, let us leave the horses; perhaps they will have sense enough to save themselves; but it's too much of a risk for Christians! Look, there's the footbridge gone! Do as I do, monsieur, do as I do, or you're a dead man!" And Charasson, who already had the water up to his shoulders, began to run nimbly up a tree. Emile, judging from the fury of the torrent, which increased a foot in depth every second, that courage would be sheer folly, and thinking of his mother, decided to follow the little peasant's example. "Not that one, monsieur, not that one!" cried the boy, seeing him start to climb an aspen. "That's too weak, it will be carried away like a straw. Come up here, by me; for the love of God, climb my tree!" Emile, recognizing the wisdom of Sylvain's suggestion,--for the child, in the midst of his terror, lost neither his presence of mind nor the commendable desire to save his neighbor,--ran to the old oak to which he was clinging and soon succeeded in reaching a position not far from him, on a stout branch several feet above the water. But they had soon to abandon that post to the angry element, which continued to rise; and, ascending in their turn from branch to branch, they succeeded in saving their lives.