They did so, little Billy stumbling as Mary Bell loosened his hands from the fence.  They braced the little fellow as well as they could, and by shouted encouragement roused him to something like wakefulness.

“Is Jim coming?” he shouted.

Mary Bell assented wildly.  “Start, Davy!” she urged.  “We’ll keep him between us.  Right along the fence!  What is it?” For he had stopped.

“The other fellers?” he said pitifully.

She told him that they were safe, safe at the fire, and she could hear him break down and begin to cry with the first real hope that the worst was over.

“We’re going to get out of this, ain’t we?” he said over and over.  And over and over Mary Bell encouraged him.

“Just one more good spurt, Davy!  We’ll see the fire any minute now!”

In wind and darkness and roaring water, they struggled along.  The tide was coming in fast.  It was up to Mary Bell’s knees; she was almost carrying Billy.

“What is it, Davy?” she shouted, as he stopped again.

“Miss Mary Bell, aren’t we going toward the river!” he shouted back.

The sickness of utter despair weakened the girl’s knees.  But for a moment only.  Then she drew the elder boy back, and made him pass her.  Neither one spoke.

“Remember, they may come to meet us!” she would say, when Davy rested spent and breathless on the rail.  The water was pushing about her waist, and was about his armpits now; to step carelessly into a pool would be fatal.  Billy she was managing to keep above water by letting him step along the middle rail, when there was a middle rail.  They made long rests, clinging close together.

“They ain’t ever coming!” sobbed Davy, hopelessly.  “I can’t go no farther!”

Mary Bell managed, by leaning forward, to give him a wet slap, full in the face.  The blow roused the little fellow, and he bravely stumbled ahead again.

“That’s a darling, Davy!” she shouted.  A second later something floating struck her elbow; a boy’s rubber boot.  It was perhaps the most dreadful moment of the long fight, when she realized that they were only where they had started from.

Later she heard herself urging Davy to take just ten steps more,—­ just another ten.  “Just think, five minutes more and we’re safe, Davy!” some one said.  Later, she heard her own voice saying, “Well, if you can’t, then hang on the fence!  Don’t let go the fence!” Then there was silence.  Long after, Mary Bell began to cry, and said softly, “God, God, you know I could do this if I weren’t carrying Billy.”  After that it was all a troubled dream.

She dreamed that Davy suddenly said, “I can see the fire!” and that, as she did not stir, he cried it again, this time not so near.  She dreamed that the sound of splashing boots and shouting came down across the dark water, and that lights smote her eyelids with sharp pain.  An overwhelming dread of effort swept over her.  She did not want to move her aching body, to raise her heavy head.  Somebody’s arm braced her shoulders; she toppled against it.