She woke in the morning with the memory of a dream in which she had been searching the library for information on 'boats' and 'bridges'. No matter where she looked, volume B was missing. When she found it at last her hands had somehow got wound up in a ball of string and she couldn't turn the pages. It was a pleasure to wake up to sunshine and the song of birds.

Perhaps the river's gone down in the night, she thought as she went to wash, taking a pail with her for cooking water. But in daylight the speed of the current was even more terrifying. The water was a pale brown, with a foamy backwash where stones carne close to the surface. She could see just how fiercely it tugged at the reeds and grasses that were almost submerged at the near edge.

How wide it was, flooding almost the whole narrow valley, nearly up to the base of that great nut tree on the farther shore. She filled the pail and then knelt to wash. It was surprisingly cold, considering that it was well into June. She shuddered and shook herself dry. Then she picked up the pail and hurried back to camp. I must tell Luke.

“I've talked to the Initiator,” Luke said quietly, as they sat beside each other, eating breakfast. “Let's scout upstream when you've finished eating. Maybe there's a way… “

“Yes, of course. I'm nearly through.”

As they left she saw Angela staring after them. “Do the others know how bad it is?”

“We haven't talked about it, but I'm sure they sense it. Why?”

“Nothing.” What had she seen on Angela's face? It wasn't fear. It was more like hatred. “Nothing at all. Do you think we're likely to find a better crossing up here?”

“No, I don't. The river gets narrower, but you can see how deep it is and how steep the banks are.”

“And since the same amount of water is going through as where it's all spread out, it's going to be that much stronger. ''

They walked back along the river's edge. “How on earth are we going to get across?” Luke muttered.

“Boats or bridges.” Ruth remembered her irritating dream. “We've got a boat, but the water's too fast. What we need is…” She stopped and laughed.

“What is it?”

“It's silly. I was going to say string. It was in my dream. But why? Oh, I know! Rope. A piece of rope tied to the inflatable fore and aft. Someone on each bank holding the rope so the boat can't lose control in the current.”

“Good so far. How are we going to get the rope across to the other side?”

“Throw it, with a rock around it maybe?”

“Hmm.”

“No,” said Ruth suddenly. “It won't work. You're going to have to have someone on the far bank to haul on the rope.''