It was a great sight—­a wonderful sight.  No real freshet could have been more awful to behold.  Mr. Hooley’s feat was a masterstroke!

But behind and above Ruth was a scene of disaster that held those on the opposite bank speechless—­after Hooley’s first mighty shout of warning.  At least, all but the camera men were so transfixed by the thing that was happening above the unconscious Ruth.

Trained to their work, the camera men had been ready to crank their machines when Hooley grabbed up his megaphone.  The boom had burst, the flood poured down, and the Indian maid’s canoe came into the range of their lenses.

It was the most natural thing in the world that they should begin cranking—­and this they did!  Alone among all those on the far bank of the stream, the camera men were blind to Ruth’s danger.

“She’ll be killed!” shrieked Jennie Stone, while Helen Cameron ran to the water’s edge, stretching forth her arms to Ruth as though she would seize her from across the stream.

The next moment the water flooded up around Helen’s ankles.  The stream was rising, and had Jennie not dragged her back, Helen would have been knee-deep in the water—­perhaps have been injured herself by one of the flying logs.

Ruth was out of reach of the logs in the stream, although they charged down with mighty clamor, their ends at times shooting a dozen feet into the air, the bark stripping in ragged lengths, displaying angry gashes along their flanks.  It was from that great heap of logs above, on the brink of the steep bank, that Ruth was in danger.

A fringe of low brush had hidden the foot of the logpile up there.  This hedge had also hidden from the observation of the party across the stream the villains who must have deliberately knocked out the chocks which held the high pile of timbers from skidding down the slope.

Mr. Hooley had seen the logs start.  Squeezed out by the weight of the pile, the lower logs, stripped of bark and squealing like living creatures started over the brink.  They rolled, faster and faster, down upon the unwarned Ruth Fielding.  And behind the leaders poured the whole pile, gathering speed as the avalanche made headway!

The turmoil of the river and the crashing logs would have smothered the sound of the avalanche until it was upon the girl of the Red Mill.  No doubt of that.  But providentially Ruth flashed a glance across the stream.  She saw the party there all screaming at her and waving their arms madly.  Jennie was just dragging Helen back from the rising flood of the turbulent river.  Ruth saw by their actions that they were trying to draw her attention to something behind her.

She swung about and looked up the almost sheer bluff.

Ruth Fielding was not lacking in quick comprehension.  A single glance at the descending avalanche of logs was sufficient to make her understand the peril.  She knew that she could not clear the hurtling timbers by running either up stream or down.  The way was too rough.  As well as Jim Hooley, she knew that escape was only possible by leaping into the river.  And that chance was rather uncertain.