Friant looked at him a moment in silent amazement.
"Do you mean to say that you are going to carry your pack and mine too?"
"That's what I mean to say. I'll do it if I have to."
Friant drew a long breath.
"Well," said he at last, "if a little sawed-off cuss like you can wiggle under a hundred and eighty, I guess I can make it under sixty."
"That's right," said Del imperturbably. "If you think you can, you can."
"And I did," ends Friant, with a chuckle.
Therein lies the whole secret. The work is irksome, sometimes even painful, but if you think you can do it, you can, for though great is the protest of the human frame against what it considers abuse, greater is the power of a man's grit.
We carried the canoe above the larger eddies, where we embarked ourselves and our packs for traverse, leaving Deuce under strict command to await a second trip. Deuce disregarded the strict command. From disobedience came great peril, for when he attempted to swim across after us he was carried downstream, involved in a whirlpool, sucked under, and nearly drowned. We could do nothing but watch. When, finally, the River spued out a frightened and bedraggled dog, we drew a breath of very genuine relief, for Deuce was dear to us through much association.
The canoe we turned bottom up and left in the bushes, and so we set off through the forest.