At the same time he had to keep his end of the babiche taut.

It was, from the beginning, an almost superhuman task.

The rock was slippery as oil.

Twice his eyes shot down-stream, with the thought that it might be better to cast himself bodily into the water, and after that draw Marette to him by means of the babiche.

What he saw convinced him that such action would be fatal.
He must have Marette in his arms.