‘Stroke on the right!’ came Dave’s sharp order
A moment more, and to Miranda it seemed that the leafy shores ran by her, that the gnashing phalanx of the waves sprang up at her. She had never run a rapid before. Her experience of canoeing had all been gained on the lake. She caught her breath, but did not flinch as the tumbling waters seethed and yammered around her. Then her blood ran hot with the excitement of it; her nerves tingled. She wanted to cry out, to paddle wildly and fiercely. But she held herself under curb. She never moved. Only the grip of her hands on the paddle, which lay idle before her, tightened till the knuckles went white. There was no word from Dave; no sign of his presence save that the canoe shot straight as an arrow, and bit firmly upon the big surges, so that she knew his wrist of steel was in control. Suddenly, just ahead, sprang a square black rock, against which the mad rush of water upreared and fell back broken to either side. The canoe leaped straight at it, and Miranda held her breath.
“Stroke on the right!” came Dave’s sharp order. She dipped her paddle strenuously, twice—thrice—and, swerving at the last moment, while the currents seethed up along her bulwarks, the canoe darted safely past.
Miranda stopped paddling. There was a steeper slope in front, but a clear channel, the waves not high but wallowing inward toward the centre. Straight down this centre rushed the canoe, the surges clutching at her on both sides, yellow green, with white foam-streaks veining their very hearts. At the foot of the slope, singing sharply and shining in the sun, curved a succession of three great “ripples,” stationary in mid-channel, their back-curled crests thin and prismatic. Straight through these Dave steered. The three thin crests, thus swiftly divided, one after another, slapped Miranda coldly in the face, drenching her, and leaving a good bucketful of water in the canoe.
“Oh!” gasped Miranda, at the shock, and shook her hair, laughing excitedly.
There was gentler water now for a hundred yards or so, and Dave steered cautiously for shore.
“We’ll hev to land an’ empty her out,” said he. “Ther’s no more big ‘ripples’ like them there on the whole river; an’ we won’t take in water agin ’twixt here an’ Gabe’s.”
“I don’t care if we do!” exclaimed Miranda, fervently. “It was splendid, Dave! And you did it just fine!”
This commendation took him aback somewhat, and he was unable to show his appreciation of it except by a foolish grin, which remained on his face while he turned the canoe over and while he launched it again. It was still there when Miranda resumed her place in the bow; and, strangely enough, she felt no disposition to criticise him for it.