She peered out, leaning forward.  “No; there’s nothing.”  Her hand turned within his, released itself gently.  “I’m not afraid,” she said, speaking clear and swift.  “It isn’t that.  But I’m—­rebellious.  I hate the idea of it, of ending everything; the unfairness of it.  To have to die without knowing the—­the realness of life.  Unfulfilled.  It isn’t fair,” she accused breathlessly.  “Ban, it’s what we were saying.  Back there on the river-bank where the yucca stands.  I don’t want to go—­I can’t bear to go—­before I’ve known ... before....”

Her arms crept to enfold him.  Her lips sought his, tremulous, surrendering, demanding in surrender.  With all the passion and longing that he had held in control, refusing to acknowledge even their existence, as if the mere recognition of them would have blemished her, he caught her to him.  He heard her, felt her sob once.  The roar of the cataract was louder, more insistent in his ears ... or was it the rush of the blood in his veins?...  Io cried out, a desolate and hungry cry, for he had wrenched his mouth from hers.  She could feel the inner man abruptly withdrawn, concentrated elsewhere.  She opened her eyes upon an appalling radiance wherein his face stood out clear, incredulous, then suddenly eager and resolute.

“It’s a headlight!” he cried.  “A train!  Look, Io!  The mainland.  It’s only a couple of rods away.”

He slipped from her arms, ran to the boat.

“What are you going to do?” she called weakly.  “Ban!  You can never make it.”

“I’ve got to.  It’s our only chance.”

As he spoke, he was fumbling under the seat.  He brought out a coil of rope.  Throwing off poncho, coat, and waistcoat, he coiled the lengths around his body.

“Let me swim with you,” she begged.

“You’re not strong enough.”

“I don’t care.  We’d go together ...  I—­I can’t face it alone, Ban.”

“You’ll have to.  Or give up our only chance of life.  You must, Io.  If I shouldn’t get across, you may try it; the chances of the current might help you.  But not until after you’re sure I haven’t made it.  You must wait.”

“Yes,” she said submissively.

“As soon as I get to shore, I’ll throw the rope across to you.  Listen for it.  I’ll keep throwing until it strikes where you can get it.”

“I’ll give you the light.”

“That may help.  Then you make fast under the forward seat of the boat.  Be sure it’s tight.”

“Yes, Ban.”

“Twitch three times on the rope to let me know when you’re ready and shove out and upstream as strongly as you can.”

“Can you hold it against the current?”

“I must.  If I do, you’ll drift around against the bank.  If I don’t—­I’ll follow you.”

“No, Ban,” she implored.  “Not you, too.  There’s no need—­”

“I’ll follow you,” said he.  “Now, Io.”

He kissed her gently, stepped back, took a run and flung himself upward and outward into the ravening current.