With fast beating hearts the boys seated themselves, Mr. Thorne, Mr. Pauling, Mr. Henderson and Rawlins took their accustomed places and with a “Yip-yi!” from the Boviander the paddles dug into the water and the coorial shot out upon the swirling black surface of the pool.
With every ounce of their strength, with their muscles straining under their bronze skins, the men plied their paddles and Colcord and the bowman swung their weight upon their huge paddles at bow and stern. For an instant the boat hung motionless, the bow quivered and vibrated to the drag of the current and then the craft darted ahead. High above the gunwales boiled the maelstrom as the centre of the whirlpool was reached, the boat seemed actually to stand on end, it slid up a hill of water and ere the boys realized it was accomplished the coorial had dashed beyond the danger point and was safe in a narrow, swiftly flowing channel above the pool. And at this instant, just as the boat had gained safety, there was a sharp report and one of the Indians tumbled head over heels as his paddle broke short at the blade!
“Gee!” cried Frank. “It was lucky that didn’t happen a minute sooner!”
“I’ll say ’twas!” agreed Rawlins. “We’d have been goners if it had, sure.”
“A miss is as good as a mile,” laughed Mr. Thorne. “You have to trust a lot to luck in this work.”
“Same as in diving,” remarked Rawlins.
“Well, Colcord, I guess we can call this a day’s work,” said the explorer as the boat swung into the broader river and tranquil water. “Find a good spot and we’ll make camp for the night.”
The boat was soon run ashore, the tarpaulin was quickly stretched and the crew lolled about, glad of a chance to rest their weary muscles.
“I suppose we might as well listen and see if we hear anything,” suggested Tom, as Sam busied himself with the cooking.
“Yes, take every chance you get,” said his father. “We’re getting nearer and nearer to the spot all the time.”