But such was not to be, for in a twinkling the wind died down, and the sail hung limp and useless.  With a startled cry, Eben gave the wheel a rapid turn and headed the boat for the shore, hoping thus to escape from the racing current into slower water to the left.  But the “Eb and Flo” was in the grip of a stronger master, and swinging partly around, obeyed the current’s strong behest.  Leaving the now useless wheel, Eben rushed to the side of the boat and lifted up his voice in a series of ringing calls for help.  He was heard on shore, and he saw men running to and fro.  Several tugs were lying at their wharves, but no smoke issued from their funnels.  What was he to do?  He looked ahead, and the wild, boiling, leaping waters of the falls seemed terribly near.  Instantly he thought of the motorboat.  It would save them.  But Donaster and his companion had thought of it first and were already on board.  The rope was almost untied when Donaster called to him.

“Come with us.  This is our only chance.  Hustle.”

Only for a second did Eben hesitate.  He was young and life was dear.  But he must not leave.  He was in charge of the “Eb and Flo,” and no true commander ever deserted his post of duty.  He would not be a coward.  The engine was already started, and the propeller was churning the water.

“Hurry up,” Donaster impatiently ordered.

“I’m not going,” was the reply.  “Hustle yourselves.”

“Are you crazy, boy?  It’s sure death down there!”

“Can’t help it.  I’m goin’ to stay.”

Donaster was about to further insist, when Bill stepped quickly forward, shoved him roughly aside, and tore away the rope from its fastening.

“Leave the fool if he doesn’t want to come,” he growled.  “We can’t waste any more time.”

The motor-boat immediately left the “Eb and Flo,” and was soon bucking across the current to the left.  Eben watched them as if in a dream.  He felt now that nothing could save him, for no one could go through the falls at almost low tide, especially on a stone laden boat, and live.  The roar of the leaping waters was pounding in his ears, and the boat was moving more rapidly than ever.  In a few minutes all hope of rescue would be past, for the tide was now running like a mill-sluice.

Eben was standing near the bow of the boat, his heart beating fast, and his face white as death.  How often he had heard his father tell of the boats which had gone through the falls, and those on board had never been heard of again.  Great whirlpools below, so it was believed, had sucked down their bodies into vast underground passages.  And soon his body would be there!  The thought was appalling, maddening.  His eyes were riveted upon the breakers ahead.  They fascinated him as they leaped and curled.  Their roar sounded like voices of demons, and the dancing spray appeared like long white curving hands reaching out ready to grasp their victim.