"I found all three of them roosting on a limb," Jim said, "two the first barrel, and the other one the second."
We now made preparations to reëmbark. It did not take us long to weigh anchor and with a hearty shove we were headed down stream.
Jim was at the sweep and I had my position in the bow.
"It seems kind of home-like to be aboard again," announced Jim.
"It does that," I replied. "We understand our craft now, and feel sure she will take us through if we do our share."
This was true. Perhaps we did not have the enthusiasm with which we started, but we had a confidence in ourselves and in our boat that had come through dangers and difficulties, encountered and overcome.
I felt a thrill of competence and expectation go through me as I gripped the familiar handle of my oar and settled myself ready to pull hard when the time should come.
I did not have to wait long, for now we were going through a continuous canyon with great walls of red sandstone, two thousand feet in height. After running a succession of rapids, dodging boulders this way and that, we saw ahead of us the sharpest canyon curve we had yet met. It seemed that the canyon itself ended right there and that the water was piled upon the great red wall opposite.
If you want to get the idea in a miniature way, take a board, put it partially across some little stream and see how the water runs up on the board and curves around the end of it.
Pull as we would we could not overcome the force of the current that was carrying our boat towards the wall. It would have required superhuman strength to have turned our craft.