“We’ll have to shoot the rapids!” Dick’s voice was like the snap of a whip as he made known his daring resolve.
CHAPTER III
DICK SHOOTS THE RAPIDS
At Little Moose Rapids the Big Smokey river plunged through a gorge nearly a half mile long before it finally came once more to a gentler incline where canoeing was safe. Only the most daring of canoeists ever risked piloting a frail craft through this treacherous stretch of water, and many who had dared had been drowned. Dick’s last minute resolution was one of desperation. Though he and Sandy were experts with the paddle, yet they never would have considered attempting to shoot any rapids had death or capture not threatened them.
“We’ll never make it!” the optimistic Sandy was shaken from his cheeriness by Dick’s desperate resolve.
“We’ve got to!” shouted Dick, as with one strong stroke of his paddle he swerved the canoe head on with the current, and they sped straight toward the gorge.
At the maneuver they heard an angry shout from the shore that had been their destination. Even at that distance they could detect the menace in that cry, and with added zeal they bent to their paddles.
Then a rifle cracked and a ball whistled across the water behind them. Another and another shot was fired while they sped on swifter and swifter.
“We’re getting out of range!” Dick cried.
“I hope so,” panted Sandy.
“They’re poor marksmen, anyhow,” Dick returned.