Jack was nervously looking ahead and on the left, for he knew they must now be approaching the whirlpool, where the eddying waters went furiously round and round and the center seemed to be a deep hole, like the dent a gigantic top would make in the mud.
Yes, there it was beyond, and they were speeding down at a pace that made one dizzy to notice it. He could feel that both Indian guides were paddling desperately away from the left, as though fearing that they were too close to the verge of that death chasm!
What if a paddle chanced to break right then and there? They carried spare ones fortunately—Jack had noted that; but all the same he hoped nothing of the sort would come about.
Hardly had this chilly idea flashed into Jack’s mind than he heard what seemed to be a groan close to his ear. At the same time he felt the boat quiver in a suspicious manner. Turning instantly the boy was horrified to see that the Indian guide in the rear had crumpled in his place, with his head fallen forward, and seemed to be gasping for breath.
He had collapsed just at the most dreadful moment, when the canoe was swooping down close to the edge of the whirlpool!
[CHAPTER XII]
WINNING AN INDIAN’S ADMIRATION
Fortunately for all of them, Jack Stormways was not given to fear. In emergencies he acted from intuition, rather than through thinking things out, no matter however speedily.