“More of it below, Harden,” said Milton as the Mary shot alongside.

More indeed!  It seemed to Enoch that the first rapid was child’s play to the one that followed.  The jutting rocks were more frequent.  The fall greater.  The waves more menacing.  But they shot it safely until they reached its foot and there an eddy caught them and carried them back upstream in spite of all that could be done.  Enoch seized the oars that were in readiness beside him and pulled with all his might but to no avail.  And suddenly the Mary rushed out of the mist striking them fairly amidship.  The Ida half turned over, but righted herself and the Mary darted off.  Milton shouted hoarsely, Forrester and Enoch obeyed blindly and after what seemed to Enoch an endless struggle, spray and waves suddenly ceased and they found themselves in quieter waters where the Mary awaited them.

Harden and Agnew were laughing.  “Thought you knew an eddy when you saw one, Milt!” cried Agnew.

“I don’t know anything!” grinned Milton, “except that Jonas is going to be too scared to cook.”

“If ever I get to land,” retorted Jonas, “I’ll cook something for a thanksgiving to the Lord that you all will never forget.”

They examined the next fall and passed through it successfully.  The Canyon was widening now and an occasional cedar tree could be seen.  Enoch was vaguely conscious, too, that the colors of the walls were more brilliant.  But the ardors of the rapids gave small opportunity for aesthetic observations.

Curiously enough, after the passage of this last fall the waters did not subside in speed, though the waves disappeared.  The spray of another fall was to be seen beyond.

“We mustn’t risk shooting her without observation,” cried Milton.  “Make for that spit of sand with the cedars on it, fellows.”

Enoch and Forrester put their backs into their strokes in their endeavor to guide the Ida to the place indicated, which appeared to be the one available landing spot.  But the current carried them at such velocity that when within half a dozen feet of the shore it seemed impossible to stop and make the landing.

“Overboard!” shouted Milton.

All three plunged into the water, clinging to the gunwale.  The water was waist deep.  For a few feet boat and men were dragged onward.  Then they found secure foothold on the rocky river bottom and, with huge effort, beached the Ida.  Scarcely was this done, when the Mary hove in view and with Milton shouting directions, they rushed once more into the current to help with the landing.

“The cook and the bacon both are in your boat, Harden!” chuckled Milton, “or you’d be getting no such delicate attentions from the Ida.”