“Getting a little interesting,” ventured Bob.
“This isn’t anything,” growled Jerry, and then they went on again in silence.
About noon they pulled in to a rocky ledge and had some lunch, and after a short rest went on again. Towards the middle of the afternoon, as they were turning a bend in the river, Bob, sitting in the stern, saw what seemed to him to be a mountain cut in half.
“That must be it,” he said. “Look, Jerry!”
Jerry turned. “You’re right, I guess. It’s the Labyrinth.”
“We ought to get there by night. It’s only around the next bend,” Bob ventured.
Jerry looked around again and laughed shortly. “We’ll be lucky if we’re there by to-morrow night. That cliff is twenty miles away at least.”
Bob was amazed. It looked to be only about a mile away. Jerry must be mistaken. But Jerry was right. Although they had covered a great deal of distance, when it came time to camp for the night the cleft in the mountain seemed as far away as when Bob had first sighted it. Two days later, however, they did reach it. And it was not until the river had swirled them through this giant gateway that they encountered any rapid water. They began to think that the passage of the Labyrinth had been overestimated.
In the late afternoon of the second day, after they had slipped silently by the towering walls of the canyon which here came down sharply into the river, and had swung around a bend, Jerry sighted the first rough going.
“Pull in to shore, Bob,” he said quickly. “We’d better take a look at what’s coming before we tackle it.”