There was a dam across the river, at the mill, and the inclined plane, which led from the floor of the mill down to the shore of the river, terminated at the edge of the water just above the dam. The water was so low that it did not fall over the dam near the shore, though Forester and Marco could hear the roaring of the water, which fell over the dam nearer the middle of the river.
"We must take care," said Marco, "or we shall get carried over the dam. I read of an Indian once, who was carried over the falls of Niagara."
"Yes," said Forester; "we must be careful."
Forester turned the head of the boat up the river, keeping near the shore, so as to avoid all possibility of being carried over the dam. The boat shot along swiftly through the water.
"The boat goes very well," said Marco.
"Yes," replied Forester; "and yet it is only a log canoe."
"A log canoe," said Marco. "Is this only a log canoe?"
"That is all," replied Forester. "It is made of a log, hollowed out. They use a great many such boats on this river. They go very easily with paddles."
Forester and Marco both had paddles. Marco sat about in the middle of the boat, but Forester sat in the stern, propelling the boat and steering it at the same time. When they got up a little way above the dam, they went out farther towards the middle of the river. Forester soon became warm by the exercise of paddling, and had no disposition to return. They both found it very romantic and delightful to glide smoothly over the glassy surface of the water, which was silvered by the moonbeams.
They soon came to a turn in the river, which carried them away from the sight of the mills and the dam, and brought them under high banks, which, in some places, presented rocky cliffs to the view, and, in others, were covered with forests. This scenery had a peculiarly sombre and solemn expression, seen thus, under the light of the moon. Marco gazed at it in silence, and with a feeling of awe.