The next instant, the boiling waters would toss him high on the crest of a rolling wave, only to drag him down again a second later.

But, always, he drew nearer and nearer the object of his struggle, while the rapids swept both the helpless woman and the tossing boat and the swimming man onward toward the towering cliff, and the thunder-roar of the mad waters below grew louder and louder.
The splendid strength of arms and shoulders which Brian Kent had acquired by his months of work with his ax on the timbered mountain-side sustained him now in his need.

With tremendous energy, he breasted the might of the furious river.

To the watchers it seemed at times that it was beyond the power of human muscles to endure the terrific strain.
Then he gained the boat, and they saw him striving with desperate energy to drag it toward the opposite shore and so into the currents that would carry it past the menacing point of the cliff and perhaps to the safety of the quiet water below.
All that human strength could do in that terrible situation, Brian Kent did.

But the task was beyond the power of mortal man.
For an instant the breathless watchers on the bank thought there was a chance; but the waters with mad fury dragged their victims back, and, with terrific power, hurled them forward toward the frowning rocks.
It was quickly over.
In that wild turmoil of the boiling, leaping, seething, lashing, hammering waves, the boat, with the woman who crouched on her knees on the bottom, and the man who clung to the side of the craft, appeared for a second lifted high in the air.