About an hour before noon, the familiar warning roar of rapids reached their ears. Rounding a curve, carefully, they snubbed the Ida to a rock while Agnew clambered ashore for an observation. Just below them a black wall appeared to cut at right angles across the river bed. The river sweeping round the curve which the Ida had just compassed, rushed like the waters of a mill race against the unexpected obstacle and waves ten to twenty feet high told of the force of the meeting. Agnew with great difficulty crawled along the shore until he could look down on this turmoil of waters. Then, with infinite pains, he returned.
"It's impossible to portage," he reported, "but the waves simply fill the gorge for two hundred feet."
"Tie me in the boat," said Milton. "The rest of you get out on the rocks and let the boat down with ropes."
Agnew looked questioningly at Enoch, who shook his head.
"Agnew," he said, "can you and Jonas manage to let the Ida down, with both Milton and me aboard?"
"No, sir, we can't!" exclaimed Jonas. "That ain't to be thought of!"
"Right you are, Jonas!" agreed Agnew, while Milton nodded in agreement.
"Then," said Enoch, "let's land Milton and the loose dunnage on this rock, let the boat down, come back and carry Milton round."
"It's the only way," agreed Agnew, "but I think we can take a hundred feet off the portage, if you fellows are willing to risk rowing down to a bench of rock below here. You take the steering oar, Judge. I'll stay ashore and catch a rope from you at the bench."
Cautiously, Jonas backing water and Enoch keeping the Ida almost scraping the shore, they made their way to the spot where Agnew caught the rope, throwing the whole weight of his body back against the pull of the boat, even then being almost dragged from the ledge. Milton was lifted out as carefully as possible, the loose dunnage was piled beside him, then the three men, each with a rope attached to the Ida, began their difficult climb.