We return to the junction of the rivers, where we left the Spaniards--'tis hardly probable they are still there; but if they are, then we must trust to our stout arms, and have faith in the right .------ By heavens! Cairnes, what mean you?
Damme, man, would you overturn the boat ?" This hasty word of expostulation had hardly left my lips before the Puritan scuttled clumsily overboard, his red hair cropping out of the seething water like a rare growth of fungus.

Another instant, and the full shock of that racing current struck our bow, hurling it about as if the trembling boat were an eggshell.

Over him we went, his pudgy fingers digging vainly for some holding-place along the slippery planks, his eyes staring up in terror.
"For God's sake, cling tight, Eloise!" I heard this shout of warning from De Noyan as he fell backward into the water, which, luckily, was scarcely above his waist.

Helpless to prevent the plunge, I joined company at the bow, going down well over my head without finding footing, and coming to the surface face to face with the Puritan, who was spluttering out river water and scraps of Calvinistic speech, striving madly to lay hold on some portion of the boat, now spinning away on the swift flood.

It was no time to seek explanation from any man wrathful as Cairnes appeared to be, so I devoted my attention to doing the one thing left us,--keeping the crazy craft upright to save Madame and the cargo.