For two minutes Winn labored as never before in all his life.

But the minutes seemed hours, and he felt that he might as well attempt to push away the bank itself as the mass of timber on which he stood.

Suddenly he heard that which he expected and dreaded, a shout, so loud that it seemed to be uttered on the raft.

The set-polo fell from his nerveless grasp as he looked up, fully expecting to gaze into the black muzzle of a pistol.
At first he saw--nothing.

He must be turned around.