Melton sprang nimbly on board and grasped a paddle. The raft quivered a moment and then shot, swift as an arrow, toward the turbulent stretch of water beyond.
Then came a tremendous lurch, a riotous dash of spray that took away their breath, and with a dizzy speed that was simply indescribable the trembling craft was whirled down the torrent.
The first sensation was one of uncontrollable fear, and they hung with all their might to the logs, expecting every instant to be tossed into the water. Round and round spun the raft in dizzy revolutions, until their heads were dizzy and aching. Then the harsh roar subsided, and in a little while the raft became quiet and rested on the surface of the water with hardly a quiver.
And now they ventured to sit up. They appeared to be moving with the velocity of a railroad train.
On both sides, a few yards from the raft, smooth walls of rock were visible. Overhead was empty space.
“If this could continue,” said Guy, “we should reach the end of the river in a few days.”
“It won’t last,” said Forbes gloomily. “We’ll soon run across some bad water.”
His fears were shared by the rest, but as time passed on and they continued to speed smoothly between the rocky walls, they began to feel less apprehensive of danger.
“Bildad seems to be feeling quite chipper,” said Guy. “Suppose you ask him how he tricked that serpent, Canaris.”
“Well, I’ll try him,” was the reply.