The stream into which he was thrown was narrow and winding, and, at that point, flowed with great force. The swiftness of the current bore the detective up and kept him from sinking. The men in the Red Spider watched until he was carried around a bend in the stream, and then continued on, confident that they had been completely successful in their murderous designs. The torrent was full of drift, and Nick, half strangled and dizzy, felt that his chief danger lay in being struck by some of the logs that were spinning along with him on the surface of the water. But this fact, so far from being a danger, proved his salvation. An uprooted tree came sweeping toward him, and he was caught in the spreading branches. Tangled among the limbs, as he ultimately became, it was impossible for him to sink, and for a short distance he rode along with his head out of the torrent. Presently the tree lodged in a jam of driftwood, and Nick watched the whirling débris shoot against the jam and pass on, missing his head sometimes by no more than an inch. “Help!” he called again, “This way, Chick! Patsy! Help!” He did not call in vain, for Chick and Patsy suddenly appeared on the bank, the former with a coil of rope in his hands. “We’ll have you in a minute, old man!” cried Chick, cheerily. “I’ll throw the rope and you can catch it.” “No, I can’t,” answered Nick. “My hands are tied.” “Here,” said Patsy, grabbing one end of the rope and tying it about his waist. “I can go out on that tree and fish Nick out of the branches. I’m a regular cat when it comes to walking a log.” “All right, Patsy,” said Chick. “Mind your eye and be careful that the tree doesn’t turn with you.” Patsy started, made his way into the branches, knelt down, and cut the rope from Nick’s hands. Nick was then able to help, and his rescue was not long in being effected. On reaching the bank, he dropped down for a moment, completely exhausted. “Wouldn’t this give you a jolt?” muttered Patsy, as he cut the rope from Nick’s ankles. “They expected him to swim with his hands and feet tied.” “They expected me to go to the bottom,” returned Nick, “and I’d have done it, too, if you and Chick hadn’t been handy by.” He arose to his feet. “We haven’t any time to waste here,” he went on, giving himself a shake and throwing as much water as he could out of his soaked clothing. “Where’s the auto?” “On the turnpike, about a hundred yards away,” replied Chick. “Then let’s get to it and keep on after that outfit. They’re making for the Canadian line, and we’ve got to stop them before they get across.” “Then we’ll have to rush,” said Chick. “The border isn’t more than twenty miles away.” They all realized the value of the minutes that were slipping past, and ran for the turnpike, sprang into the auto, and started on at top speed. After they had crossed the bridge and got some distance beyond, they began to look and listen for some sign of the Spider. They could hear nothing.