While all were on edge with the danger, however, they found themselves at the end of the perilous passage and floating in comparatively smooth water again. Men and boys drew sighs of relief, the former mopping their perspiring brows and looking their mutual congratulations.
"The fun is only just begun," said Tim McCabe; "we had matters purty lively fur a time, but they'll soon be a good deal livelier."
"What is next due?" asked Frank.
"I belave," said Tim, "that some folks spake of death as riding on a pale horse, don't they?"
"Yes."
"That must be the raison they call the nixt plisure thramp White Horse Cañon, or White Horse Rapids."
"Where are they?"
"But a little way ahid; many men have been drowned in thrying to sail through the same; and him as doesn't know how to swim in a whirlpool hasn't ony business to thry it."
"What, then, do you mean to do?"
"Thry it," was the imperturbable response.