An instant later the shadowy object assumed the unmistakable form of a huge drift log, and before Ned could realize his peril or deal a single paddle stroke, the current whirled the heavy mass upon him, and the blunt end pounded broadside into the Pioneer. The canoe was bowled over like a tenpin, and Ned went head first into the yellow flood. He came to the surface a dozen feet below, and when he found he was out of his depth he made a valiant effort to swim up to Randy, who was fighting hard to drive the Water Sprite off the island, so that he might hasten to his friend's rescue.

Half a dozen strokes convinced Ned of the utter futility of breasting such a current. As he ceased struggling, and allowed himself to drift at will, he saw the log bearing down upon him. It had swung clear around after capsizing the canoe, and was shooting along at a rapid pace, as though to make up for lost time.

With scarcely an instant's deliberation Ned decided what to do. His canoe was floating toward him from above, but being still broadside to the current, its movements were painfully slow.

Moreover, it offered doubtful security in its inverted position, and was likely to sink if any weight was put upon it.

A few vigorous strokes brought Ned alongside the drifting log as it swung past him. He straddled it a little beyond the middle, holding on with both hands.

It sank a little with his weight, causing the front end to tip upwards, but his head and shoulders were clear out of water. Turning cautiously around, he saw to his dismay that Randy was still aground on the island.

"Push off as soon as you can," he shouted. "Overtake my canoe and paddle for the left bank. I'm safe for the present, and will try to reach land."

"All right!" came the reply an instant later. "I'll do my best."

The words had a vague, far away sound, for already the distance had widened considerably. The log went swiftly on its course, heading straight through mid-channel, and leaping and plunging in the turbid water.

Ned clung to it with might and main. He was not a little worried by his strange and perilous position. The yellow flood stretching on all sides of him was a terrifying sight.

The thunder and lightning had almost entirely ceased, and the wind had fallen, leaving the creek as smooth as a millpond; but the rain still poured with a steady persistency that threatened a long continuance.

Ned did not mind this much. The air and the water were both warm, and he felt fairly comfortable.

He was more concerned for his companions than for himself. It would be a difficult matter, he reflected, for Randy to manage the two canoes and the tent.

He wondered how Clay and Nugget were faring—whether they still remained on the island, or had ventured to embark in search of their companions, now that the violence of the storm was past.

Meanwhile Ned was not oblivious to his own danger. While these things were passing through his mind, he was striving to guide the log toward shore by paddling with his left hand and leg. At first he seemed to make no progress.

The current was running swift, and the log remained obstinately in mid-channel. The flood was rising, too. Plain proof of it was seen in the dÉbris that floated on all sides—patches of grass and bushes, broken limbs, and here and there a fence rail.

The sky was still overcast with dark clouds, and the gloom behind him showed Ned no trace of Randy or the canoes. He worked harder and harder to gain the shore, and finally he discovered to his great delight that he was getting the log under control.

It steadily pursued a diagonal course, veering constantly nearer to the left shore. Occasionally a swirl of the current pitched it toward midstream, but a little perseverance put it right again.

The scene of Ned's capsize was now a good mile in the rear, and he was satisfied that he would reach the bank in a short time—unless some unforseen event occurred.

This was exactly what destiny had in store for the lad. A moment later a sharp bend—unseen until too late—cast the log in the very center of the creek, and while the sting of this misfortune was still fresh, Ned heard a dull booming noise—the certain herald of either rapids or a dam. The sound, though not loud, came from no great distance.

Its subdued tone showed that if rapids were ahead, they were not very bad ones; if a dam, that it could not be high, else the falling water would make a greater noise.

But Ned had no desire to tempt his fate in either. With what strength was left in his numbed limbs he tried hard to drive the log shoreward.

Had a little more time been granted him he might have succeeded, but the ruthless current swept him on with unceasing speed, and when the log was still fifty feet from the left bank he saw the smooth stretch of water before him merge into a seething line of turbulent waves and tawny foam.

The rude outline of a mill suddenly appeared on the left, proving conclusively the existence of a dam.

All hope of reaching the shore was gone now. It was some slight consolation to know that the dam was not a high one, and Ned boldly faced the ordeal by swinging the log around until it pointed straight to the line of foam. Then he hugged it closely to him and waited.

The suspense was brief. One swift rush to the brink, a quick slide down a glistening slant of water—and then a headlong plunge into the seething waves.

The log rushed on nobly, now under the billows, now high on their crest until it struck a rock endwise, and turned broadside in the twinkling of an eye. Ned parted company with it then and there—he couldn't help it—and struggled on alone. He was in comparatively shallow water now, and though the force of the current and the waves was terrific, he finally gained a foothold on the slippery rocks, and waded waist deep toward shore.

The water soon shallowed, and with a grateful heart he staggered out on a stony beach.

He sat down for a moment to recover from his exertions, and then went up the slope to the building, which was only a few yards away. It proved to be a saw mill, and even in the somber gloom Ned could see that it was very ancient and rickety, and had probably not been in use for many years.

The locality was a wild and lonely one. Steep wooded hills lay on both sides of the creek.

Further investigation showed Ned that the saw mill abutted on the corner of the dam, and that a narrow sluiceway conducted the water to the machinery. He could hear the splash and gurgle of the torrent as it swept under the rotting timbers of the mill and rushed on to freedom through the wasteway beyond.

As the depth of the latter was uncertain Ned crossed the sluice by a shaky plank that spanned the sides, and found himself among thick bushes at the foot of a steep hill. He was tempted to go back and seek shelter in the mill, for his limbs ached with weariness, and his wet clothes chilled him at every step.

But first it was important that Randy should be found, so he pushed along the edge of the creek in the rain until he obtained an open view of the channel for some distance ahead.

The first glimpse rewarded him for his pains. He spied a bulky dark object about fifty yards up stream. It was approaching at a rapid pace and hugging the shore closely.

Ned put two fingers in his mouth and emitted a shrill, piercing whistle. It was answered in a similar manner, and a moment later the dark mass resolved itself into Randy, the tent, and the two canoes.

"By jove, I'm glad to see you," exclaimed Randy in husky tones, as Ned helped him to land. "I thought you were a goner this time, old fellow."

Ned hastily related his experience.

"It was a close shave," he concluded; "too close to be pleasant. But how did you manage to get here with this heavy load?"

Randy laughed. "I had a time of it, I can tell you. I jumped out in the water—it was only knee deep on that island—and dragged the whole tent on the foredeck of my canoe. Then I paddled after the Pioneer, and caught up with it near another submerged bar, where both the canoes stuck again.

"This gave me a chance to right the Pioneer and throw most of the water out of it. Then I slung the tent across both of them, tied the cockpits together, and started off. Of course I could only paddle on the right side, but I got along fairly well. The best of it is that I found your paddle on the way down. The lantern is gone, but I have a candle here, if we need it. It was in the pocket of my rubber coat."

"That's exactly what we do need," replied Ned. "It will help us to find some dry wood in the mill. But first of all we must drag the canoes and the tent on shore."

This proved a difficult task, but it was finally accomplished. The canoes were turned bottom up, and the tent was stretched over a clump of bushes. Then Ned led the way down stream to the saw mill.