 the trees he passed standing deeply in the tide as he was
borne from side to side, till at last, with his senses beginning to
fail, and the water rising higher and higher above his chin, a dim
sensation of its being time to relax his efforts dawned upon him, in
company with a strange drowsiness, just as he felt a heavy, sickening
shock, which had the effect of making coruscations of light flash before
his eyes; then he flung out his arms wildly, roused to renewed action
for a few moments by the blow, and lastly all was blank.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

A HARD FIGHT.

Richard Frayne opened his eyes, to gaze about him dreamily for some
little time before he could grasp what had happened and where he was.
Then a throbbing in his head and a sensation of smarting assailed him,
but he did not stir, for his legs were cramped; and _wash, wash, wash_,
the waters were sweeping along nearly to his chest.

At last, with a bound, full consciousness returned, and he realised that
he was lying wedged in amongst a pile of broken woodwork, evidently a
great shed or barn which had been swept down the river till its progress
had been checked by a clump of elm-trees, and the force of the water had
rent it up and piled the broken posts and rafters, driving them, and
pressing them by its weight into a chaotic mass, over and through which
the torrent rushed.

The drowning lad had been driven heavily by the force of the stream
right upon this wreck, head and shoulders above the surface, and, though
the water had torn and dragged at him afterwards, it was only to wedge
him in more firmly, so that it was some time before he could free his
legs from where they were, fast between two beams, the heavy pressure of
the water forcing them ever down toward where it rushed furiously
through the timbers.  But at last he managed to climb higher and rest,
panting, upon the sloping mass of woodwork, with the water streaming
from him and the hot sunshine beginning to send a glow into his benumbed
limbs.

He was so far down the river now that the country rou