He was already paddling down the stream, which soon turned sharply to the eastward, and a little farther on plunged into a narrow gorge with a low, hollow sound that could now be plainly heard.
“There are falls ahead,” the engineer cried in some alarm.
“Yes; but we shall not go over them. Look on the right side, and you will see a log cabin at the foot of the south cliff. We shall stop there.”
In another moment he dexterously swung the canoe into a little basin just below the hut, exclaiming:
“Here we are!”
Springing out, he steadied the craft while his comrade leaped ashore. Securing the boat he led the way into the building, saying:
“This was built a few years ago by a half-crazy old fellow who gained a livelihood by hunting and fishing. Since he died it has been public property for those who know of it. I have been here now and then with others on ’coon hunts. We’ll gather some fir boughs for a bed, and it won’t be a bad place in which to pass the night.”
From their knapsacks they carried they first satisfied their hunger, and then collected the material for beds. In doing this it was necessary to approach near the place where the creek made its downward plunge, and Ira said carelessly:
“How easy it would be to dam the stream here.”
“Yes; but if you did that it would flood the whole swamp.”