“Sure thing.”
“Bed’s certainly more comfortable than this chair, Phil;” and picking up their things, the boys made their way below to their cabin.
Scarcely had they gone to sleep again, it seemed to them, than they heard the voice of the first mate calling:
“We’re moving up to the canal. If you don’t look sharp, you’ll miss your chance to shoot the rapids.”
Expressing their thanks, Phil and Ted almost jumped into their clothes and were soon on the bridge, staring in open-mouthed wonder all about them.
To the right they beheld the quaint buildings of the Canadian Soo and the monster pulp works, but the foam of the rapids, as the water raced down the twenty-foot fall from Lake Superior, almost a mile to the level of Lake Huron, quickly claimed and long kept their attention.
In front of them were the two American canals, one now useless because of the increased size of the lake carriers, with their locks and the massive granite power-house, while work trains and dredges puffed and snorted and a thousand men worked to remove the dirt from the course of still another canal which was to have even longer locks. And back of the canals, on the left, extended the steadily growing city of the American Sault Ste. Marie. Far in the distance, to the right, they could see the Canadian canal, yet not a boat was waiting to use it.
But it was the rapids at which they were looking when the watchman, in passing, whispered: “Just keep your eye on the skipper if you want to see some boat jockeying.”
Even as the words were uttered, there sounded a series of ear-splitting toots, seemingly abreast of them.
In response, the Admiral emitted a single, strident blast, Captain Perkins snapped some orders to his wheelsman, and the huge ore carrier swung on a diagonal course, making, under full speed, for a vacant place at the dock adjoining the canal abutments.