If ever man needed the power of prompt decision, it was the foreman then.
To the men on shore there seemed no possible way of escape from the
avalanche of logs; and Frank shut his eyes lest he should have to witness
a dreadful tragedy. A cry from the men caused him to open them again
quickly, and when he looked at the rock it was untenanted--Johnston had
disappeared! Speechless with dread, he turned to the man nearest him, his
blanched countenance expressing the inquiry he could not utter.

"He's there," cried the man, pointing to the whirl of water behind the
body of logs. "He dived."

And so it was. Recognizing that to remain in the way of the jam was to
court certain death, the foreman chose the desperate alternative of
diving beneath the logs, and allowing them to pass over him before he
rose to the surface. Great was the relief of Frank and the others when,
amid the foaming water, Johnston's head appeared, and he struck out to
keep himself afloat. But it was evident that he had little strength left,
and was quite unable to contend with the mighty current. Good swimmer as
he was, the danger of drowning threatened him.

Frank's quick eyes noticed this, and like a flash the fearless boy, not
stopping to call any of the others to his aid, bounded down the bank to
where the _bonne_ lay upon the shore, shoved her off into deep water,
springing in over the bow as she slipped away, and in another moment was
whirling down the river, crying out at the top of his voice,--

"I'm coming! I'll save you! Keep up!"

His eager shouts reached Johnston's ears, and the sight of the boat,
pitching and tossing as the current swept it toward him, inspired him to