“Try along the bank,” Driscoll ordered, and Thirlwell, turning to pick up a pole, saw his face in the moonlight.  It was strangely set, and he was not looking at the bank, but at the rapid.  His gaze was fixed and horrified.

For some minutes they scarcely held the craft against the stream.  Indeed, Thirlwell afterwards wondered why they kept it up, since it was obvious that they could not reach the landing, but imagined that Driscoll urged them.  The fellow seemed resolved not to be drawn into the rapid.

“We can’t make it; I’ve got to let up,” Scott gasped at length, and Thirlwell, breathing hard, wiped his wet face as the canoe drove away.

It was galling to be beaten, and there was some danger unless the craft was handled well.  Steadiness and skill were needed, but after all the risk was not greater than he had often run in the mine and on the frozen trail.  The daunting thing was that Driscoll, whom they had expected to steer the canoe, looked afraid.  He crouched astern, paddling in a slack, nerveless manner.  There was no chance of landing now; they must run through the mad turmoil into the eddies of the tail-pool.

The roar of the flood rolled in confused echoes along the wall of pines.  Angry waves broke upon the reefs near the bank, and a cloud of spray wavered and glittered above a tossing line of foam.  They were drifting towards the line extraordinarily fast, and Thirlwell felt his nerves tingle as he tried to brace himself.  There was ground for being daunted, but he thought he would not have felt much disturbed had Driscoll not looked afraid.

Then Scott, kneeling in the bow, turned, and after a quick glance at Driscoll said, “Keep as cool as you can, partner.  Steve’s badly rattled and can’t be trusted.”

A minute or two afterwards, they plunged over the edge of the rapid.  The air got cold and the light got dim, for a wind blew against the rush of water and the spray hid the moon.  Still, they could see for a distance, and Thirlwell frankly shrank as he glanced ahead.  The river was broken by ridges of leaping foam that ran one behind the other with narrow gaps between.  White-ringed eddies span along the bank and the tops of dark rocks rose out of the turmoil.  Moreover, there were rocks in the channels, and one must strain one’s eyes for the upheavals that marked sunken shoals.  Driscoll knew the reefs and eddies, and while they plunged down like a toboggan Thirlwell risked a glance astern.  The man’s eyes were fixed on the river, but his pose was slack.  It was plain that he had not recovered and they could expect no help from him.  Thirlwell drew a deep breath and gripped his paddle hard.