Then came a series of rapids quite different from the Hance Rapid, and many others found above.  Those others were usually caused in part by the detritus or deposit from side canyons, which dammed the stream, and what might be a swift stream, with a continuous drop, was transformed to a succession of mill-ponds and cataracts, or rapids.  In nearly every case, in low water such as we were travelling on, the deposit made a shore on which we could land and inspect the rapid from below.  The swift water invariably makes a narrow channel if it has no obstruction in its way; it is the quiet stream that makes a wide channel.  But the rapids we found this day were nearly all different.  They were seldom caused by great deposits of rock, but appeared to be formed by a dike or ledge of hard rock rising from the softer rock—­the same intrusion being sometimes found on both sides of the stream—­forming a dam the full width of the channel, over which the water made a swift descent, with a long line of interference waves below.  But for a cold wind which swept up the stream, this style of rapid was more to our fancy.  These were “good rapids,” the “best” we had seen.  There were few rocks to avoid.  Some of the rapids were violent, but careful handling took us past every danger.  There was little chance to make a portage at several of these places had we desired to do so.  We gave them but a glance from the decks of the boats, then dropped into them.  In one instance I saw the Edith literally shoot through a wave bow first, both ends of the boat being visible, while her captain was buried in the foam.

We had learned to discriminate by its noise, long before we could see a rapid, whether it was filled with rocks, or was merely a descent of big water.  The latter, often just as impressive as the former, had a sullen, steady boom; the rocky rapids had the same sound, punctuated by another sound, like the crack of regiments of musketry.  All were greatly magnified in sound by the narrow, echoing walls.  We became so accustomed to this noise that we almost forgot it was there, and it was only after the long, quiet stretches that the noise was noticed In a few instances only we noticed the shattering vibration of air that is associated with waterfalls.  Still there is noise enough in many rapids so that their boom can be heard several miles away from the top of the canyons.

Guided by these sounds, and aided by our method of holding the boat in mid-stream, while making a reconnaissance, we were quite well aware of what we were likely to find before we anchored above a rapid.  We were never fearful of being drawn into a cataract without having a chance to land somewhere.  The water is strangely quiet, to a comparatively close distance above nearly all rapids.  We usually tied up anywhere from fifty feet to a hundred yards above a drop, before inspecting it.  If it was a “big-water” rapid, we usually looked it over standing on the seat in the boats, then continued.  By signals with the hands, the one first over would guide the other, if any hidden rocks or dangerous channel threatened.  While we did not think much about it, we usually noted the places where one might climb out on the plateau.  Little could be told about the upper walls from the river.