A BATTLE WITH A TORRENT 145 



drift pile with terrific force. I instantly real- 

 ised that if the horse should be carried against 

 it we would both be drawn under by the suc- 

 tion of the water. 



Lazarus was hopelessly unseaworthy, that 

 was plain; so there was no alternative but to 

 desert him to his fate and try to save myself. 

 With all my strength I hurled my rifle toward 

 shore and saw it fall within a few feet of the 

 bank. Then I kicked my left foot from the 

 stirrup and tried to do likewise with the right 

 one, but it caught in some manner, and, struggle 

 as hard as I could, it would not free. 



I imagined myself thrown from the horse and 

 dangling head down in the water, with my foot 

 fast to the saddle. This vision brought me to 

 my senses; it was no time to think, but to act. 



Jerking my hunting-knife from its sheath, I 

 reached down, cut the stirrup strap that held 

 me prisoner to the horse, gave several vigor- 

 ous kicks, and finally the stirrup slid off my 

 foot. 



Then it was that I must have lost my head. 

 Of course, I had no time to replace the knife in 

 its sheath, but, instead of tossing it ashore and 

 hunting it up afterward, as I might well have 



