“Cling on tight,” Bob shouted, as the bow seemed to pause on the very brink of the falls where the water fell to the pool some twelve feet below.
So rapidly were they moving that the canoe seemed fairly to shoot off the top of the falls before it fell. Then down it dropped like a stone. As the canoe hit the water, Bob, who was sitting in the middle, tried to keep it on an even keel, but the weight carried it beneath the surface. As the water closed over his head he kicked himself free and struck out. But some unseen force seemed to be pulling him down. Struggle as he might, it seemed impossible to shake off the grip of the whirlpool. But with dogged determination he fought and finally, just as it seemed as though his lungs seemed on the point of bursting, his head emerged from the water. Shaking the water from his eyes he glanced about him. He was only a few feet from the rocky shore, and in another minute his feet touched bottom. He was safe, but where were the others?
He stood waist deep in the water gazing over the surface of the pool. Was that a head over there close under the falls? As he watched the object moved slowly and soon the form of the Indian rose from the water.
“Me on heap big rock,” he shouted as he caught sight of Bob.
“Where’s Jack and Rex?” Bob shouted back.
“Me no see um.”
“I’m all right,” a voice shouted from the opposite side.
It was Rex, and he waved his arms as he caught sight of Bob.
“Seen Jack?” Bob shouted at the top of his voice.
“No; haven’t you?”