A new terror made me cry out loud. I stared at him, tried to hear any sound of breathing, see if his chest was moving. I shoved my mouth against his face. ‘Tipene! Wake up!’

He twitched and made a moaning sound. I sobbed with relief. But then his head flopped forward again. My arms and shoulders ached; I couldn’t keep holding him much longer.

I clenched my teeth, tightened my grip on my injured friend, tried to shut out the pain in my own body. What could I do? No use shouting for help: the roaring flood would drown me out. Even if anyone came along the path above, they’d never see us unless they stopped and looked down. Anyway, there was no knowing what the dam-burst had done as it tore down the valley. Animals might have been swept away; people would have their hands full. It could be hours before anyone started wondering where we were.

Tipene moaned again. I shook him, shouted at him. He stirred, then went limp once more. It was hopeless. My own body was shuddering with cold and strain.

Then I saw someone.

A figure stood in our paddock, near the hayshed. Grandad Duncan: I could see his walking stick. He seemed to be staring towards the rocks where Tipene and I were huddling.

‘Grandad!’ I yelled. He couldn’t possibly hear me. He didn’t move. Then someone else appeared, striding through the gate from our farmhouse. My father.

Had they seen us? They might just be watching the river; any second now, they’d turn and head off to check cows and fences in the lower paddocks. The two of them stood close together. My eyes were blurry with the strain of holding on to Tipene; I couldn’t even be sure they were looking our way.

I had one chance. I hauled the deepest breath I could into my lungs. I clutched a fistful of my friend’s soaked shirt, feeling the edge of the carving inside. I took one step out onto the ledge, and instantly, the water dragged and sucked at me. I braced myself as much as I could, then I lifted my right arm above my head, and waved it backwards and forwards in great sweeping arcs. Once … twice … three times. I groaned and whimpered with the effort.

The figures in the paddock moved. They seemed to jump, as if someone had yelled in their ears. My father’s own arm flew up, and he stabbed it in our direction. Then he was rushing for the stile onto the road. Grandad began limping after him; then he turned, headed for the farmhouse.