_Dip and lift, dip and lift_, till sky and earth and river were blotted out, and consciousness dwindled to a thin line,--a streak of foam, fringed on the one hand with sneering rock, on the other with snarling water.
That thin line summed up all.

Somewhere below was the beginning of things; somewhere above, beyond the roar and traffic, was the end of things; and for that end they strove.
And still Frona held the egg-shell with a hand of steel.

What they gained they held, and fought for more, inch by inch, _dip and lift_; and all would have been well but for the flutter of Tommy's soul.

A cake of ice, sucked beneath by the current, rose under his paddle with a flurry of foam, turned over its toothed edge, and was dragged back into the depths.

And in that sight he saw himself, hair streaming upward and drowned hands clutching emptiness, going feet first, down and down.