And in that moment it came to him above the growing murmur of the river--the PUTT, PUTT, PUTT of the Police patrol boat from Athabasca Landing! A deep breath came from between his lips.

When Marette took her eyes from the river and looked at him, his face was like carven rock.

He was staring dead ahead.
"We can't make the Chute," he said, his voice sounding hard and unreal to her.

"If we do, they'll be up with us before we can land at the other end.

We must let this current drive us ashore--NOW." As he made his decision, he put the strength of his body into action.
He knew there was not the hundredth part of a second to lose.