Dick and Roger concluded that, unless something happened inside of another hour, they would have to give up all hope of seeing the glad sight that day.
“We are about to turn a bend in the bank right below,” Dick told Roger, “and, if all is well, perhaps we may see what we are yearning to look upon.”
All possible speed was made in order to turn the point of land covered with trees, that jutted out into the river. Then from every throat arose a joyous shout that made the echoes ring. It was the very first white man’s hurrah that was ever heard on the western side of the great American continent, north of the isthmus, since time began.
There lay the mouth of the Columbia River, and, looking beyond, they could see the boundless expanse of the Pacific, with the sun, that had beckoned them on all these thousands of miles, setting in a red blaze of glory.
CHAPTER XXXII
TO THE RISING SUN—CONCLUSION
On the following day the flag of the United States floated from the green hills of Columbia Bay. And, when the adventurers had become thoroughly rested, they began to discuss the matter as to where they would stay during the coming winter.
Just what sort of severe weather they might expect none of them, of course, knew. In those early days nothing was understood with reference to the famous warm Japan ocean current, which does for the Pacific coast what the Gulf Stream accomplishes for much of our eastern shore, as well as for Europe.