“What do you think of them?” asked Arthur, as he and Tom backed water with their paddles to keep their canoes from taking the plunge before they were ready.
“Who was the first man who went down here?” said Tom, in reply.
“One of the hotel guides.”
“Was he a graduate of a lunatic asylum, or did he go there afterward?” inquired Tom.
Arthur laughed until the woods echoed.
“Neither,” he answered, as soon as he could speak. “He’s got a level head on his shoulders yet, if one may judge by the constant demands that are made upon his time. Some of the people who come here every summer like him so well that they begin to make bargains with him before the ice is out of the lake. They wouldn’t do that if they had any reason to believe he was crazy, would they? Well, what do you say?”
“I say, go ahead whenever you get ready,” was the response.
“All right,” said Arthur, who saw by the expression on Tom’s face that he had no intention of backing out. “Now, watch every move I make, and let me get at least twenty or thirty feet ahead of you before you start. Look out for both ends of your boat. You won’t run on to an isolated rock unless you try, because the water runs away from it. That has a tendency to throw the bow from the obstruction, and the stern toward it; so the minute the bow is out of harm’s way, drop your paddle into the water on the side opposite the rock, and use it the best you know how.”
“Why, that will throw me square upon the rock,” cried Tom.
“No, it won’t,” insisted Arthur. “It will throw you away from danger, and the current rushing around the rock will carry you still further away. But if you use the paddle on the other side, you will come up against the rock ker-chunk; and then you will have to swim the rest of the way down, because the stern of your canoe will, most likely, be smashed in. Understand?”