The current swept him toward the fall, but he worked nearer and nearer the middle of the stream.

He was making for the rock, thinking he could plant his feet upon it and at the worst hold the boat until he could summon other help by shouting.

He had barely got his feet upon the rock, when the twigs by which the boy was holding gave way.

He seized the boat, but it dragged him from his uncertain footing, and with a desperate effort he clambered over its side and found himself its second doomed passenger.
There was but an instant for thought.
"Sit still," he said, "and, just as we go over, put your arms round me under mine, and don't let go for your life!" He caught up the single oar, and with a few sharp paddle-strokes brought the skiff into the blackest centre of the current, where it was deepest, and would plunge them into the deepest pool.
"Hold your breath! God save us! Now!" They rose, as if with one will, and stood for an instant, the arms of the younger closely embracing the other as he had directed.
A sliding away from beneath them of the floor on which they stood, as the drop fails under the feet of a felon.

A great rush of air, and a mighty, awful, stunning roar,--an involuntary gasp, a choking flood of water that came bellowing after them, and hammered them down into the black depths so far that the young man, though used to diving and swimming long distances underwater, had well-nigh yielded to the fearful need of air, and sucked in his death in so doing.
The boat came up to the surface, broken in twain, splintered, a load of firewood for those who raked the river lower down.