“Come—­get busy!  A few hours in this hole and we’d suffocate.  Do you realize that we’ve got to pull this raft back against the current?”

First it was necessary to repair the rent in the hide covering.  This we did with strips of hide; and barely in time, for it was becoming wider every minute, and the water was beginning to creep in over the edge.  But we soon had the ends sewed firmly together and turned our hands to the main task.

It appeared to be not only difficult, but actually impossible to force the raft back up-stream against the swift current.  We were jammed against the rock with all the force of many tons of water.  The oar was useless.

Getting a purchase on the wall with our hands, we shoved the raft to one side; but as soon as we got to the wall on the left the whirling stream turned us around again, and we found ourselves back in our original position, only with a different side of the raft against the rock.  That happened three times.

Then we tried working to the right instead of the left, but with no better success.  The force of the current, coming with all its speed against the unwieldy raft, was irresistible.  Time and again we shoved round and started upstream, after incredible labor, only to be dashed back again against the rock.

We tried our spears, but their shafts were so slender that they were useless.  We took the oar and, placing its end against the wall, shoved with all our strength.  The oar snapped in two and we fell forward against the wall.  We tore off some of the strips of hide from the raft and tried to fasten them to the wall on either side, but there was no protuberance that would hold them.  Nothing remained to be done.

Harry and I held a consultation then and agreed on the only possible means of escape.  I turned to Desiree: 

“Can you swim?”

“Parfaitement,” she replied.  “But against that”—­pointing to the whirling water—­“I do not know.  I can try.”

I, who remember the black fury of that stream as it swept past us, can appreciate the courage of her.

We lost no time, for the foulness of the air was weakening us with every breath we took.  Our preparations were few.

The two spears and about half of the provisions we strapped to our backs—­an inconsiderable load which would hamper us but little.  We discarded all our clothing, which was very little.  I took the heavy skin which Desiree had worn and began to strap it also on top of my bundle, but she refused to allow it.

“I will not permit you to be handicapped with my modesty,” she observed.

Then, with Desiree between us, we stepped to the edge of the raft and dived off together.

Driven as we were by necessity, we would have hesitated longer if we had known the full force of the undercurrent that seized us from beneath.  Desiree would have disappeared without a struggle if it had not been for the support which Harry and I rendered her on either side.