Meanwhile, as the mad waters surged around the bend in the river,
and swept over the shallows, Victor Burleigh flung his arm around
Elinor Wream and leaped back from the very edge of doom.

"We must climb the bluff again. Be a good Indian!" he cried,
groping for a footing.

Climbing the west bluff by daylight for the sake of adventure was
very unlike this struggle in the darkness to escape the widening river,
with a wind-driven torrent of rain sweeping down the land behind
the first storm-fury, and Elinor Wream clung to her companion's arm
almost helpless with fear.

"Do you think you can ever get us out? she asked, as the limestone
ledge blocked the way.

"Do you know what my mother named me?" The carelessness
of the tone was surprising.

"Victor!" she replied.

"Then don't forget it," Burleigh said. "It's a dreadfully rough
way before us, little girl, but we'll soon be safe from the river.
Don't mind this little bit of a storm, and you'll get personally
conducted into Lagonda Ledge before midnight."

In her sheltered life, Elinor had never known anything half
so dreadful as this storm and darkness and booming flood,
but the fearlessness of the strong man beside her inspired her to
do her best. It was only two hours since they were here before.