Tom replied that he did; whereupon Arthur settled his cap more firmly on his head, took his paddle in both hands and with one bold stroke sent his frail craft into the rapids. The moment the current caught him in its grasp, he began to shoot ahead like a boy coasting down hill. Tom shut his teeth hard and gripped his paddle until the muscles on his bare arms stood out like a gold-beater’s; and so intent was he upon watching every move his guide made, that he forgot to look out for himself, until he was called to his senses by a warning shout from his friends behind.
“Look out, there,” yelled Joe and Roy, in concert. “You’ll be over the brink the first thing you know.”
Tom heard the warning, but it came too late. He dropped his paddle into the water and made desperate efforts to check his canoe, which had already gained rapid headway; but the swift current had taken firm hold of him, and finding that it was much stronger than he was, he resolved to go ahead and trust to luck to keep from running into Arthur Hastings, in case the latter met with an accident.
Shooting the Rapids.
Tom afterward said that he did not remember much about that wild ride. He was lost in admiration of Arthur Hastings’s skill as a canoeist, and followed in his wake through all the turns he made, which were so numerous and bewildering that Tom did not see how one boy’s head could contain them all. It was a lucky thing for him and his cousins that they did not attempt to go through there without a guide. He did not hear the waters foaming and roaring around him, nor did he see a single one of the rocks past which he went with such speed that the wind whistled through his hair; but he did see the smooth surface of the pond the instant he came within sight of it, and when he shot into it, propelled by the momentum he had acquired during his descent of the rapids, he called out gleefully that he had not touched a solitary obstruction on the way.
“Of course not,” answered Arthur. “If you had, you would not be as dry as you are now. There is a clearly defined channel all the way through the gorge, and you won’t touch any thing if you keep in it. What would happen to you if you should get out of it, I don’t know; but I think you would be fortunate if you came off with a simple capsize.”
It was a thrilling sight that was presented to their gaze as they sat there in their canoes at the bottom of the rapids and watched the others as they came down. First Joe Wayring dashed into view around the bend, closely followed by Ralph Farnsworth, who seemed to be quite as much at his ease as his guide was, and handled his paddle and managed his canoe quite as skillfully. By the time they reached the smooth water at the foot Roy and Loren came in sight, and in five minutes more the little fleet was reunited. The hearts of three of the canoeists beat a trifle faster than usual, but they had accomplished the run in perfect safety, and without a wetting, and they were ready to try it again at the very first opportunity.
“Take time to learn the channel before attempting any thing reckless,” cautioned Joe. “After that you can come down by yourselves as often as you feel equal to the task of carrying your boats back over the portage.”
The boys went ashore long enough to put on their clothes, untie their rods, and put fresh water on their minnows, and then they were ready for the bass.