We were becoming used to incidents like this and did not make much ado about them.
We had a clear sweep ahead of us, but very rapid. The walls widened some, with ledges and shelves above the water. I was the lookout in the bow when I saw a sight that caused me to yell to Jim:
"There's a whole lot of Indians on the cliff up there waiting for us."
"We can't stop," grinned Jim. "If they want to say anything they will have to telegraph."
This was correct, for we were being borne along on a current that was running fifteen miles an hour, if not more.
"Do you think they are hostile?" Tom inquired anxiously.
"It wouldn't surprise me a bit," I replied. "That Indian who trailed me last night probably was a scout, and has told his people that we were shooting the river and this is the reception committee."
"Take to the cabin, boys," commanded Jim, "if they commence to fire things. I'll steer."