A quarter of a mile away, caught in the treacherous current of Canyon River, was the "Dauntless," her white hull sparkling in the sunshine and her tapering mast bobbing back and forth against the background of cliffs.
[CHAPTER X]
HOWARD IN DANGER
"It's Howard Fenton!" cried Sam Randall, in terrified tones. "Can't something be done to save him?"
"The boat will be carried into the gorge, as sure as fate," groaned Phil Levins. "See—it's moving faster every minute."
"Awful!" breathed Tom Clifton. "Awful to stand here and see that!"
Into the minds of each flashed the dreadful conviction that Howard Fenton was doomed. Spellbound, they watched the "Dauntless" struggling in the current, tossing about like a chip, now floating broadside, then stern foremost, and each moment nearing the dark, gloomy gorge of Canyon River.
Sam Randall brought out his field-glass.
"I see Howard plainly," he gasped. "He's holding on to a rope. The water is rough out there. Great Scott! This is terrible!"