She lost hope, and being no common spirit, she gained resignation; she
left screaming, and said to Everett, "Pray for me."

But the next moment hope revived, and fear with it--this is a law of
nature--for a man, bare-headed and his hair flying, came galloping on a
bare-backed pony, shouting and screaming with terror louder than both the
women. He urged the pony furiously to the stream; then the beast planted
his feet together, and with the impulse thus given Hope threw himself
over the pony's head into the water, and had his arm round his child in a
moment. He lashed out with the other hand across the stream. But it was
so powerful now as it neared the lasher that they made far more way
onward to destruction than they did across the stream; still they did
near the bank a little. But the lasher roared nearer and nearer, and the
stream pulled them to it with iron force. They were close to it now. Then
a willow bough gave them one chance. Hope grasped it, and pulled with
iron strength. From the bough he got to a branch, and finally clutched
the stem of the tree, just as his feet were lifted up by the rushing
water, and both lives hung upon that willow-tree. The girl was on his
left arm, and his right arm round the willow.

"Grace," said he, feigning calmness. "Put your arm around my neck, Mary."

"Yes, dear," said she, firmly.

"Now don't hurry yourself--_there's no danger_; move slowly across me,
and hold my right arm very tight."

She did so.