The peril lay in quicksand, or the plunging into some unseen hole, where the sudden swirl of water might pull them under.

Alone he would have risked it recklessly, but with her added weight in his arms, he realized how a single false step would be fatal.

The farther shore was invisible; he could perceive nothing but the slight gleam of water lapping the sand at his feet, as it flowed slowly, noiselessly past, and beyond, the dim outline of a narrow sand ridge.

Even this, however, was encouragement, proving the shallowness of the stream.

He turned about, his face so close he could see her eyes.
"We shall have to try it, Miss McDonald; you must permit me to carry you." "Yes." "And whatever happens do not scream--just cling tight to me." "Yes," a little catching in her throat.