At the crest, he rested and worked a knot out of his shoulder. Then he headed down the southern slope with gravity on his side. The headlamp cast its light out far enough to plan his path, and when the trees grew too thick, he used the hatchet to clear his way. Reed still did his best to tangle himself on rocks and scrub, but a couple yanks of the rope and Max was moving again.

Max had no idea how many hours had passed since he’d left Pip at their camp. It could easily be midnight, or three in the morning. Finally, Max reached the rapids.

Max left Reed near the water’s edge, tethering him to a tree so that he couldn’t roll himself into the river. Then Max ventured into the woods and found a pine no bigger around than a soup can, a good twenty feet up to its tip. Max took the hatchet to it, keeping his swings light so as to not awaken Pip on the other side of the river. He chipped away until the tree fell, then he cleared most of the limbs, leaving only a Y-crux about fifteen feet up.

Back at the river, he rolled Reed onto his stomach and tied him to the pole with paracord, securing him at the waist, shoulders, and knees, his back hoisted at the Y-crux. Reed squirmed, but the ride down the hill had taken much of the fight out of him. With Reed bound to the pole, Max dragged Reed, feet-first, to the bank, the pole sticking out a good eight feet below Reed’s boots.

Satisfied that Reed was ready for his crossing, Max gathered his strength for one last trip. He told himself that people jump into frozen water for charity—polar bear plunges. This was no big deal. He stripped down to nothing, lifted his clothing above his head, and waded in. “Son of a bitch!” he hissed. Why would anyone do this voluntarily? He hurried across, tossed his dry clothing to shore, and went back for Reed.

Reed fought as Max yanked the pole toward the center of the fifteen-foot passage, a lone tug-o-war. When he reached the middle of the stream, he dropped the pole. Reed angled out of the river on the Canadian side, the water rising up to his chest, his head propped against the rocks along the bank.

Now came the hard part. Max got behind Reed and pushed him up like a centurion raising a crucifix. Reed fought like a feral cat, kicking and heaving. The man truly wanted to drown.

He was heavy as he rose out of the water, but Max only needed to get him upright because gravity would take it from there. With the last bit of strength he had, Max pushed forward, lifting Reed straight up. Reed screamed into his gag as Max gave one final push and Reed toppled forward, dropping face-first onto the opposite bank. Even with the rush of churning water in his ears, Max could hear the crack of Reed’s head hitting the rocky embankment.