“Well, we made that all right,” he said, quietly, resuming his seat and substituting the paddle for the pole. “Sort of scared you a little, didn’t it?” he laughed.
“Say, that was an experience!” declared Ed. “Did you stand all the way?”
“Had to,” said Ben.
“Talk about bare-back riders!” cried George. “You’ve got them beaten a mile.”
They were now in smooth, swift-flowing water, where they could regain their composure before plunging into the next set of rapids, which Ben said were some distance ahead. Now that they had passed safely through their first experience in “swift water,” the boys caught the enthusiasm of it, and were eager to reach the second stretch.
“Look!” whispered Ben, suddenly, with a slight gesture, and as they turned they saw a large bull moose staring at them from the shore. For an instant they were too amazed to think, but then, noting the small, fuzzy-looking knobs, one over each eye, they had the evidence of the shedding and growth of horns verified by their own eyes. As the canoe approached, the massive creature shook its head impatiently, and, turning, entered the forest and disappeared into the shadows as noiselessly as a fox.
The day was a glorious one of sunshine and fragrance and song. The full flush of spring had come upon the wilderness and caused it to bloom. The delicate tint of the newly leafed trees; the flowering shad-bush, or more stately dogwood, white and conspicuous against a background of green; the sweet-scented breath of the dark, somber pines and hemlocks, mingled with that from myriads of early woodland blossoms, and wafted to them on the soft, balmy air; and, above all, the songs of the birds, which filled their ears with woodland music—all this thrilled them with the joy of living. “‘When the Red Gods call,’” whispered George, happily, as Kipling’s poem came into his mind.
Then they heard again the low, warning rumble of distant rapids, and once more their hearts beat fast. Anxiously they peered ahead for a sight of the long lane of “white caps.” The noise became louder; and, rounding a turn of the river, they saw the rapids tossing in front of them.
This time they had no fear when the canoe, with Ben standing in the stern, raced down through the center of that wild course. They had implicit confidence in the skill of the guide, and they enjoyed each moment as the little bark plunged and careened in its uncertain passage among the waves. As before, Ben brought them safely through, and paddled on down the river.
It was late in the afternoon when two sturdy figures emerged from the edge of the woods and hailed the canoe. Ben replied, and told the boys that they were lumbermen. He said they would soon reach the great camp itself, now but a short distance farther on.