"Give me your hand, Mont," continued Jack, in a loud voice, seeing that his friend could not secure a good hold.

But before the young man could comply the tree turned over, and both were immersed.

In another instant, the willow, for such it was, had reached the brink.

Here it hesitated for a moment, and then with a sharp sound it dove over the madly boiling ma.s.s into the maelstrom below!

The noise was terrific. Jack held on, closing his eyes, and forgetting everything.

He felt himself go down, down--and still further. The water rang in his ears, and many colors flickered in his mind's eye. The pressure from above was tremendous.

Ten seconds pa.s.sed. He felt his senses leaving him. Mont's body b.u.mped against him, and unconsciously he threw his own body partly around that of his friend.

Then all became a dim, dark uncertainty. The willow did not remain under the falls long. The rush of water soon forced it out into the stream below, and once there, it shot along, bearing upon its topmost branches two human bodies.

It drifted in mid-stream, gradually diminishing its speed, until an island stopped its further progress.

It struck upon a sandy sh.o.r.e, and the upper end swung gently around, catching fast in some overhanging bushes.

The bright sun shone down upon the scene as tranquilly as ever. Its warm rays apparently revived Jack, for, with a deep shudder--like one awakening from a horrible dream--the young machinist opened his eyes and endeavored to take in the situation.

He felt as if he had been pulled and beaten until not a spot was left in his body that did not ache. The rope was gone from his wrists, hands and face were cut, and his clothing was torn in a dozen places.

Yet he did not mind all this. He had a certain sense of security--a knowledge that he had pa.s.sed through a great peril in safety--that more than outbalanced his present sufferings.

Suddenly he thought of Mont. He started up to discover his friend lying near, his face deadly white, and his head hanging over the branch like a lump of lead.

Jack saw that they were close to sh.o.r.e--where, he did not know nor care, and gathering all his remaining strength, he clasped Mont in his arms, and made a leap for solid ground.

He reached the sh.o.r.e, deposited his friend's body on the gra.s.s, and then, unable longer to stand, sank down beside the young man.

The moments dragged wearily along. Jack felt himself growing stronger, and by pure grit he arose and turned all his attention to Mont.

"Looks as if he was dead!" was the young machinist's awful thought. "I never saw a drowned man, but he is fearfully quiet. Yet, if there's a spark of life left in him, I'll fan it up if I kill myself doing it."

He knelt down, and taking off Mont's coat, unloosened his collar. Then he rolled him on his back, raising the lower part of the body as high as possible, which caused the water to run from Mont's mouth in a stream.

After this he moved his friend's arms backward and forward to induce respiration, and was rewarded presently by seeing the young man give a gulp and a gasp for breath.

"Thank heaven for that!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jack. "It's a good sign," and with strengthened hopes he continued his efforts.

It was fully half an hour before Mont came to himself and sat up. He, too, was bewildered at the situation.

"Where are we?" he asked, after a long silence, in which both sought to regain their strength.

"I think we are on Blackbird Island," replied Jack, slowly. "That is just below the falls, you know."

"Did we drift here?"

"I suppose so. I don't know any more than you. I came to my senses on the tree only a little while ago."

Mont rolled over on his back and drew a long breath.

"I'm tremendously tired," he explained. "Do you know anything of this place?"

"I have often heard of it, but was never here before. I wonder if anyone lives here?"

"Don't know. It looks rather wild."

"Tell you what we'll do," said Jack. "We'll rest here in the sun for a while and let our clothes dry, and then explore the place and see what means we can find of reaching the mainland."

Mont agreed, and making themselves as comfortable as possible, the two boys rested for over an hour, each in the meantime relating to the other his experience.

"Mosey is a bad egg," was Mont's conclusion; "I suppose he thinks that he has sent us both to our death," and then he told Jack about the stolen model.

The young machinist was much worried.

"It must have been Corrigan," he said, as he arose, and put on his coat.

"I wonder what he expects to do with such booty?"

"Sell it if he can," replied the young man. "h.e.l.lo!" he exclaimed, as he happened to glance up. "Here comes some one. A girl, I declare! What is she doing in this wilderness?"

CHAPTER XIV.

MAX POOLER'S MEG.

The girl who approached was a tall, gaunt creature, certainly not over ten years of age, yet with a knowing look of worldly experience in her pinched face and furtive black eyes.

She was sparingly dressed in an ill-fitting calico gown of ancient pattern. Her feet were bare and on her head rested a dilapidated sunbonnet. She carried a large pail on one arm, and made her way to a gushing spring but a few feet away from where Jack and Mont were reclining.

She started back in surprise upon seeing the pair, and as they sprang to their feet she made a hasty move as if to retreat.

"Don't run away, please," called out Jack. "We won't hurt you."

Thus rea.s.sured, the overgrown child--for she was naught else--stopped short, shyly swinging the empty pail from one hand to the other.

"Who're you?" she asked abruptly, as the young machinist came up.

"I'm Jack Willington, and this is my friend, Mont Gray."

"How'd you come here?" was the second question, asked as abruptly as the first.

"We had the misfortune to be carried over the falls," replied Jack.

The girl tossed her pretty, but by no means clean nose, in the air.