But with Miki it was an open question from the beginning whether he would weather the storm.

He had no claws that he could dig into the wood, and it was impossible for him to use his clumsy legs as Neewa used his--like two pairs of human arms.

All he could do was to balance himself, slipping this way or that as the log rolled or swerved in its course, sometimes lying across it and sometimes lengthwise, and every moment with the jaws of uncertainty open wide for him.

Neewa's eyes never left him for an instant.

Had they been gimlets they would have bored holes.