“Steady, steady,” warned the Texan, when the men violently gripped the gunwales. “I’ll do the steering. You lad in the stern, hold her.” They were making for the high banks, and the current was carrying them swiftly down, for this was the rapid side of the river. The laden dug-out was hard to control. Now the steamboat was some distance above them, and receding. On a sudden the Texan exclaimed with―― “Look out! Back her! Back her, I say!” Even as he spoke the dug-out struck with a shock, hung, swerved, tilted――a hidden snag underneath rose and fell and clung vengefully――water began to flow in over the gunwale on the up-stream side――several of the recruits sprang half to their feet, leaning. “Steady! Steady!” bade the lieutenant――and amidst a general cry, over she went. His heart in his mouth, Ernest pitched backward, and with a splash the water closed above him. He shut his lips tight just in time. As soon as he could right himself he kicked and paddled vigorously to reach the surface. Up he blindly came, working hard; his head burst the surface, and hit with a thump. Ouch! Clawing, he opened his eyes, but for a minute he could not see. Everything was bleared and dark. He panted, and paddling and kicking he wildly stared. Something hard was close above him and surrounding him, like an umbrella. He stretched up a hand, and explored. Wood! His knees hit a sharp edge, below water. His fingers encountered a projection, near his head, and he hung on. Now he knew. He was under the boat! He certainly was. The covering was the bottom, inside, his knees had hit the gunwale and his fingers had found the bow (or stern) where the gunwales came together in a point. Yes, he was underneath the up-side-down dug-out, and he was floating along with the current; at any rate, there was nothing but water under him when he extended his feet as far as he dared. The space was not pitchy dark, for some light filtered through the water; soon he could dimly make things out. A bobbing object bumped against him; it was a canvas haversack. For the present he had plenty of room and plenty of air; and by kicking occasionally, and hanging on with his fingers, he easily kept afloat. But, jiminy, what a fix! He shouted, and his voice rang hollowly in his ears, almost deafening him. Maybe he could dive from under. He took a long breath and sank and kicked, doubling his neck――and bumped his head again, on one gunwale, and his shins on the other. Huh! That didn’t work, so in a panicky fear he came up inside to breathe. Shucks! Now his feet dragged momentarily on a bar, but lost it. Once more he tried to dive. He must get out from under. He sank, turned in a ball, kicked and paddled and groped, pushed luckily with the soles of his feet against the opposite gunwale――and away he slid, scraping his back. He held his breath as long as he could; then out he popped, into sunshine and freedom!