existence with the current, he could dimly see a floating black object
shooting by the shore, at times striking the projections of the bank,
until in its recoil it swung half round and drifted broadside on towards
him. He was near enough to catch the frayed ends of a trailing rope that
fastened the structure, which seemed to be a few logs, together. With
a convulsive effort he at last gained a footing upon it, and then fell
fainting along its length. It was the raft which the surveyors from the
embarcadero had just abandoned.

He did not know this, nor would he have thought it otherwise strange
that a raft might be a part of the drift of the overflow, even had he
been entirely conscious; but his senses were failing, though he was
still able to keep a secure position on the raft, and to vaguely believe
that it would carry him to some relief and succor. How long he lay
unconscious he never knew; in his after-recollections of that night, it
seemed to have been haunted by dreams of passing dim banks and strange
places; of a face and voice that had been pleasant to him; of a terror
coming upon him as he appeared to be nearing a place like that home that
he had abandoned in the lonely tules. He was roused at last by a violent
headache, as if his soft felt hat had been changed into a tightening
crown of iron. Lifting his hand to his head to tear off its covering,
he was surprised to find that he was wearing no hat, but that his matted
hair, stiffened and dried with blood and ooze, was clinging like a cap
to his skull in the hot morning sunlight. His eyelids and lashes were
glued together and weighted down by the same sanguinary plaster. He
crawled to the edge of his frail raft, not without difficulty, for it
oscillated and rocked strangely, and dipped his hand in the current.
When he had cleared his eyes he lifted them with a shock of amazement.
Creeks, banks, and plain had disappeared; he was alone on a bend of the
tossing bay of San Francisco!