“Roller coaster!” he shouted, and went down again, nearly out of sight.
“My Fishmobile—” he began when once more he rose straight in the air, but at that moment they came to an especially deep pool and the words froze on his lips. Teddy watched him with amusement and saw that when he was level again Bug Eye had a wild look about him.
“I’ll stick to crazy steers after this!” the cowboy yelled. “They stay on the ground, anyway!”
But the worst of it was over. The water resumed a more normal flow and the banks widened. They still shot downstream at an alarming rate, but the canoe kept on a fairly level keel.
Bug Eye drew a breath of relief and rested his paddle across the gunwales.
“I’m cured,” he declared solemnly. “I wanted to be a sailor when I was young. But never again! That was some circus! What made it like that, Pop? I’ve been over here before. But snakes, that was a millpond compared to to-day. What happened?”
“The storm,” Pop grinned. “I kinda thought it would be pretty bad. But we’re through now. And Jake Trummer’s place is just ahead. One more bend and we’re there.”
Eagerly the boys waited until they should come in sight of Whirlpool River Ranch. The end of their trip was at hand. Would they find their cattle grazing peacefully, waiting to be driven home? Would their father be there yet? They sat tense, leaning forward.
They rounded the bend. A broad vista of land lay before them, green, rolling range land. Back of the grazing fields mountains rose sublimely, fleecy clouds capping their summits. The late afternoon sun turned the scene into a picture of pastoral beauty.
But on the range was not a hair, hide, or hoof of a single shorthorn.