"Any wood left?" I asked sleepily.

"The wood and the island will finish to-morrow in a dead heat," he
laughed, "but there's enough to last us till then."

I plunged in from the point of the island, which had indeed altered a
lot in size and shape during the night, and was swept down in a moment
to the landing place opposite the tent. The water was icy, and the banks
flew by like the country from an express train. Bathing under such
conditions was an exhilarating operation, and the terror of the night
seemed cleansed out of me by a process of evaporation in the brain. The
sun was blazing hot; not a cloud showed itself anywhere; the wind,
however, had not abated one little jot.

Quite suddenly then the implied meaning of the Swede's words flashed
across me, showing that he no longer wished to leave posthaste, and had
changed his mind. "Enough to last till to-morrow"--he assumed we should
stay on the island another night. It struck me as odd. The night before
he was so positive the other way. How had the change come about?

Great crumblings of the banks occurred at breakfast, with heavy
splashings and clouds of spray which the wind brought into our
frying-pan, and my fellow-traveler talked incessantly about the
difficulty the Vienna-Pesth steamers must have to find the channel in
flood. But the state of his mind interested and impressed me far more
than the state of the river or the difficulties of the steamers. He had
changed somehow since the evening before. His manner was different--a
trifle excited, a trifle shy, with a sort of suspicion about his voice
and gestures. I hardly know how to describe it now in cold blood, but at
the time I remember being quite certain of one thing, viz., that he had