They both fell silent as they left one danger behind, only to face one almost as threatening.
The river swiftly narrowed and deepened as they swept down between the high walls of the gorge. A sullen roar of the water against the numerous rocks and against the solid walls could be heard. The canoe seemed to shoot ahead like a leaf on the wind. Louder and louder grew the sound of rushing water. Then the boys saw the first wave of foam and spray where the water whirled among several huge boulders.
Sandy was in the bow, Dick in the stern when they struck the first angry whirlpool.
“Use your paddle to push off the rocks,” shouted Dick above the rumble of the water.
They scudded past a huge, wet boulder, seemed almost flung against another, only to be whisked into a deep pool where it was all Dick and Sandy could do to keep the canoe from turning clear around. Out of the pool, they danced on once more. The rapids were clear of rocks for a space, but they were moving so fast that it seemed no time before they reached a giant buttress of stone that seemed to bar the way.
“Push off,” cried Dick. “I’ll backwater. Heave now. Here we go!”
They shaved the bluff so closely that the grind of the canoe upon the rock could be heard. The dash of water against the cliff showered down upon them, and the canoe took in a bucketful.
“Dip the water out!” shouted Dick, while they spun into another deep pool, the cliff behind them.
Sandy began frantically bailing out the water with his hat, while Dick desperately held the canoe bow against the current.
The gorge was deeper now, almost shutting out the early morning sunlight. All about spray flew in the air, like driving mist, and the roar of rushing water was almost deafening. The canoe was holding up well, yet its two occupants realized its frail shell would be shattered to atoms if but once it was thrown upon one of the countless rocks they seemed to miss by inches.