The river had fallen and its turbid green had faded, for the frost had touched the glaciers that fed it on the heights, but the stream ran fast, swirling round the island and breaking into eddies.  In one place, a white streak marked a rebound of the current from an obstacle below, and it was across this spot the men dragged the pulley.  A chain and hook hung from the latter, and they were fishing for the skip that was lost when the log broke the rope.

Festing had spent the most part of the previous day trying different plans for grappling the skip, but the fast currents and smooth side of the big steel bucket had baffled him.  His efforts had cost time and money, and he began to realize that he must give it up or try dangerous means.  The chain stopped and tightened as the hook struck something below the surface, but next moment it moved on again, and when this had happened a number of times Festing raised his hand.

“You can quit, boys,” he said, and turned to a man close by.  “She must have fallen with the shackles where the hook can’t get hold, but I think she’s only about three feet under water.”

The other studied the broken surface.  The water was not transparent, but here and there a darker patch indicated a rock below.  The eddies made a revolving slack along the bank, but near the skip joined the main current in its downstream rush.

“I’ve a notion there’s a gully between her and us,” he remarked.  “Anyhow, we’ll try to wade, if you like.”

Festing threw off his jacket and plunged in.  When he had gone a few feet he was up to his waist and it cost him an effort to keep his feet.  After two or three more steps, the bottom fell away and, floundering savagely, he sank to his shoulders.  Then his companion pulled him back.

“The gully’s there all right,” the man remarked when they clambered out.  “Say, that water’s surely cold.”

“It will be colder soon when the ice comes down, and if the skip’s to be got out, we must get her now.  I think I could reach her by swimming.”

The other looked doubtful, but Festing took off his heavy boots, and picking up the end of the rope they had used to move the pulley, walked to the edge of the island.  He was now a short distance above the skip, and hoped the eddies would help him to reach the ledge it rested on before he was swept past; but he must avoid being drawn into the main stream, since there was not much chance of landing on the foam-swept rocks lower down.  Making sure he had enough slack rope, he plunged in.

An eddy swung him out-shore, towards the dangerous rush; the cold cramped his muscles and cut his breath, but he was already below the spot he had left, and there was no time to lose.  The white streak that marked the skip seemed to forge up-stream to meet him, and he swam savagely until he was in the broken water and something struck his foot.  Then he arched his back and dived, groping with his hands.  He grasped the slippery side of the skip and felt the shackle loop.  With some trouble he got the rope through, and then tried to put his feet on the bottom.  They were swept away and he came up gasping, knowing he had made a mistake that might cost him dear.