The spokes were beginning to shine in the brightening light.
And meanwhile the seconds passed! It was the work of hardly a minute to bind three other narrow strips of shingle among the spokes so that they stood more or less crossways.
There was no time to place and fasten more, but these, at equal intervals, forming a sort of cross within the wheel, were quite sufficient, Tom thought, for his purpose.

It was necessary to shave the edges of the shingles somewhat, after they were in place, so that they would not chafe against the axle-bars.

But this was also the hurried work of a few seconds, and then Tom moved his machine to the old mooring float and lifted it upon the bobbing platform.
He must work with the feverish speed of desperation for the float was held by no better anchor than one of its supporting barrels embedded in the mud.

If he placed his weight or that of _Uncle Sam_ upon the side of the float already in the water the weight would probably release the mud-held barrel and the float, with himself and _Uncle Sam_ upon it, would be carried willy-nilly upon the impetuous waters.
And meanwhile---- How plainly he could distinguish the trees now, and the pale stars stealing away into the obscurity of the brightening heavens.
With all the strength that he could muster he wrenched a board from the centre of the platform, and moving his arm about in the opening felt the rushing water beneath.
The buoyancy of the air-tight barrels, one of which was lodged under each corner of the float, was such that with Tom and his machine upon the planks the whole platform would float six or eight inches free of the water.

To pole or row this unwieldy raft in such a flood would have been quite out of the question, and even in carrying out the plan which Tom now thought furnished his only hope, he knew that the sole chance of success lay in starting right.