“Back water,” said Bob. “We’d better explore a little before we start through.”
“You don’t mean to go through it, do you?” said Jerry, startled out of his usual calm manner by the way in which the other boy had spoken.
“Why not?” returned the other. “It looks like the only way we can go, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Jerry, “but—I didn’t figure on anything like this.”
“We can’t go back again, can we?” asked Bob. “There doesn’t seem to be anything else to do but to try the tunnel.”
His first surprise over, Jerry saw that Bob was right. If they didn’t go through the tunnel they would probably never go anywhere. It would be more than their strength could accomplish to force the boat back through the rapids they had encountered. And even if they could reach the top of the cliffs, Jerry knew that they would die of thirst before they could make their way to civilization.
“You’re right, I guess,” he assented. “We’ve got to do it. Come on, we might as well get it over.”
But Bob, who was at the oars, pulled towards the bank. “Just a jiffy, Jerry, I’ve got a hunch. Why couldn’t a dam be built here?”
In a flash Jerry saw what Bob meant, and for a second was ashamed that in the excitement he had forgotten the real object of their expedition. They were out to find a place where a dam might be built that would bring the water of life to the parched desert on the other side of the mountain—and he had forgotten all this when his personal safety was in danger. He looked up at the wall nature had built across the canyon. This time it was not as an obstruction that he saw it but as a possible location for a dam. When the boat touched the shore, he brought out the transit and set it up. Bob waited breathlessly for his decision. At last Jerry took his eye from the telescope.
“Yes,” he said slowly, “it looks possible to me. Better’n that, Bob, it looks mighty lucky. Nature has given us a big help if it turns out that it is possible.”