beautiful banks, which were now darkly wooded, now smiling with green
prairies and sunny flowers. The sweet clear song of the robin, or the
monotonous tapping of the brilliant crimson-headed woodpecker, alone
broke the stillness of the scene; and after a time, Tom, somewhat
wearied and heated by the exertion of rowing, felt inclined to yield to
the spirit of rest which breathed around. So he laid aside his oars, and
let the boat drift idly on while he refreshed himself with the cold meat
and bread he had provided for the occasion. The current gradually became
stronger, the banks grew rocky and steep--soon large masses of stone
appeared scattered in the river's bed, and the waters dashed noisily
past. Tom roused up at length, and began to wish that he had not
ventured so far; he seized the oars to return, but too late--his single
strength could no longer direct the laboring boat, now hurried along by
the rushing stream. The banks rose steeper--the river narrowed--the
hoarse sound of falling waters was heard, and Tom saw with despair that
he was approaching a terrific cataract. There seemed no escape from
destruction--there was no hope of help from human hand. The boy looked
around with a pale cheek, but brave heart--one chance yet remained to
save him from certain death--one chance alone! A black and rugged rock,
around which the waters madly leaped and broke, parted the current some
feet from the direction in which his little vessel was impelled;--if he
could reach it, he would be saved! As he approached it he stood
up;--could he make such a fearful leap?--he sat down again, and tried to
calculate calmly the distance and his powers. He drew near the
rock--still nearer--one moment more, and his only chance of life would
be gone forever! He sprang upon the edge of the boat, and, leaping from
it with all the strength of despair, fell, clinging with a death-grasp,
to the projections of the wet and slippery stone, while the boat,
whirling round and round by the impulse, dashed onwards and disappeared!