shore, and it would be necessary to be wide awake and alert.

But nothing happened, and morning found him still floating onward into
the great unknown. He was ravenously hungry, and once he ran the raft
ashore and gathered a number of willow twigs. These he gnawed as he
once more continued his voyage. This, however, was poor food for a
starving man, and he was well aware that unless he could obtain
something more substantial he must miserably perish. Game was
plentiful along the river, and several times he saw moose and bears,
while early that morning he ran close to a flock of wild ducks. But
their presence only mocked him now, weaponless as he was.

This day was a most trying one, for about the middle of the forenoon it
began to rain, and Reynolds was wet to the skin as he sat huddled upon
the raft. Anxiously he peered forward, hoping that around every bend
something more cheering than the monotonous trees would meet his eyes.
But hour after hour it was just the same, and the rain continued
without any cessation. Would the river never end? he asked himself
over and over again. Whither was it bearing him, anyway? At times the
sinuous water appeared like a demon, carrying him on to destruction.
Its gurgle and ripple sounded in his ears like mocking laughter, and
the great brooding forest in its intense silence seemed in league with
the stream. Of what avail were all his mighty efforts? He had escaped
from the tangle of the forest, only to be lured to ruin by the river.

The afternoon waned, and night drew near, and still the raft swept
onward. Reynolds felt that he could endure the strain but little
longer. He was chilled to the bone, and cramped from his huddled
position. He must land, and get some circulation in his body,
providing he had any strength left.