Once under the jam, no power on earth could save.
"Hurry up, Don!" called out Ranald, anxiously.

Then, feeling Hughie beginning to clutch again, he added, cheerily, "It's all right.

You'll get us." But his face was gray and his eyes were staring, for over his shoulder he could see the jam and he could feel the suck of the water on his legs.
"Oh, Ranald, you can't do it," sobbed Hughie.

"Will I paddle underneath ?" "Yes, yes, paddle hard, Hughie," said Ranald, for the jam was just at his back.
But as he spoke, there was a cry, "Ranald, catch it!" Over the slippery logs of the jam came Tom Finch pushing out a plank.
"Catch it!" he cried, "I'll hold this end solid." And Ranald caught and held fast, and the boys on the bank gave a mighty shout.

Soon Don came up with his board, and Tom, catching the end, hauled it up on the rolling logs.
"Hold steady there now!" cried Tom, lying at full length upon the logs; "we'll get you in a minute." By this time the other boys had pulled a number of boards and planks out of the jam, and laying them across the logs, made a kind of raft upon which the exhausted swimmers were gradually hauled, and then brought safe to shore.
"Oh, Ranald," said Tom, almost weeping, "I didn't mean to--I never thought--I'm awfully sorry." "Oh, pshaw!" said Ranald, who was taking off Hughie's shirt preparatory to wringing it, "I know.