Tom was only too glad of the promised company. It was arranged that Jim was to come to him as soon as possible after nightfall, with whatever provisions he could lay his hands upon, and that then they were to get away on the queer craft Providence seemed to have prepared for them, provided only that Providence did not send the big tree swirling southward to the sea before they could reach it. The river was now considerably higher. It was tugging hard at its prey. Sometimes the tree shook with the impact of the rushing waves as if it had decided to let go the sandbank forthwith. If it did go before nightfall, they must try to find another. There were always others in sight, but they were far away in mid-channel, floating swiftly seaward. How could one of these be reached, if their fellow on the sandbank joined them? There was nothing to be done, however, except to wait. Tom's waiting was solaced by the eating of the rest of the fish. Man and boy agreed that the man must loiter there no longer. Making a fire would delay him beyond roll-call. So Jim went and Tom again ate raw fish, trying to do so slowly, but not making a great success of that. He felt as if he could eat a whale. Darkness came only a few minutes before Jim Grayson did. He brought with him a bundle of food, upon part of which Tom forthwith supped. He also brought his gun. "I'm a deserter now, you see," he explained to the boy, "and I'll be shot ef so be I'm caught. But ef I be caught, I'll shoot some o' they-uns fust." They could dimly see the outlines of the big tree, now tossing in the waves that broke above the submerged sandbank, as if it were struggling to be free. They swam out to it, Jim strongly, Tom weakly. They reached it none too soon. Ten minutes later it would have started of its own accord. Jim's task in "histing" it was easy. They were afloat at once. The top of the tree, a mass of bare branches, for the tiny tender leaves of the early Southern spring had been swept away by the water, formed the bow of their craft. They both perched far back, leaning against the tangled roots. Jim gave a final push with one dangling foot and they were off. That was all Tom knew for some time. He had fallen asleep as soon as he had snuggled securely into his place. He did not know it when they swept through the cordon of patrol-boats below, which hastened to give room to the vast battering ram. He did not even know that Jim's arm held him in place as the tree lurched and wobbled on its downward road. A few hours afterwards, he awoke, refreshed and hopeful, a new man, or rather a new boy. The night was clear. The outlines of both shores were visible. A young moon added its feeble light to the brilliant radiance of the stars. "Where are we?" whispered Tom. He knew the human voice carries a great distance over water and while there seemed to be no one who could overhear, he would run no unnecessary risk.