"We'll have to git a rope," came from Barringford. He raised his voice. "Hold tight, Dave, and we'll save you!"
He was off on the run then and Henry heard him crashing along the trail of the portage. Dave could hear but little save the pounding and rushing of the river torrent on all sides. He looked toward his cousin through the flying spray and the appeal went straight to Henry's heart.
The young soldier looked around. Not far away grew a number of saplings. He leaped toward the nearest, and with his hunting knife commenced to hack it down. The task was almost completed when Barringford reappeared.
"Thought I knowed whar I could git a rope," said the backwoodsman, as he held up the article. "Seen a dead Frencher with it a spell back. Going to git a tree, eh? Perhaps we'll need thet too. Let's try the rope fust."
He made a noose, and flung it forth with care. It slid close to where Dave lay, but the youth failed to grasp it. Then the rope was flung a second and a third time.
At last Dave caught the noose, and managed, although not without great difficulty, to slide it up his left arm above the elbow. This would leave his hands free to battle with any obstruction which
