Under Milton’s directions, they rowed back upstream far enough to gain complete control of the boat before entering the falls.  Then they shot forward.  Instantly the oars became useless.  They were carried upward on the crest of a wave that seemed about to drop them down an unbelievable depth to a jagged rock.  But at this point, another wave seized them and hurled them sidewise, half rolled them over, then uptilted them until the Ida’s nose was deep in the water.

They bailed like mad but to little avail for the waves broke over the sides constantly.  They could see little for the air was full of blinding spray.  Suddenly, after what had seemed an eternity but was really five minutes of time, there was a rending crash and the Ida slid into quieter water, turning completely over as she did so.

Enoch, as the sucking current seized him, was convinced that his hour had come, and a quick relief was his first sensation.  Then Diana’s wistful eyes flashed before him and he began to fight the Colorado.  As his head emerged from the water, he saw the Na-che land on all fours from the top of a wave upon the overturned Ida, then whirl away.  He began to swim with all his strength.  The mud forever suspended in the Colorado weighed down his clothing.  But little by little he drew near the Ida, to which he could see two dark bodies clinging.  The Na-che, struggling to cross a whirlpool toward him, made slow progress.  He had, indeed, dizzily grasped the Ida, before the other boat came up.

“We can hang on, Hard!” gasped Milton.  “Give us a tow to that sand spit yonder.”

They reached the sand spit and staggered to land, while Harden and his crew turned the Ida over and beached her.  She had a six-inch gap in her side.

“Well,” panted Enoch, “I’m glad we managed to keep dry during the rainstorm!”

“My Lord, Judge!” exclaimed Milton, “your own mother wouldn’t own you now!  I don’t see how one human being could carry so much mud on his face!”

“I’ll bet it’s not as bad as yours at that,” returned Enoch.  “Jonas, as long as it’s not the Na-che that’s hurt—­”

“Coming, boss, coming!” cried Jonas.  “Here’s your moccasins and here’s your suit.  Sure you aren’t hurt any?”

“Jonas,” replied Enoch in a low voice that the others might not hear, “Jonas, I’m having the greatest time of my life!”

“So am I, Mr. Secretary!  Honest, I’m so paralyzed afraid that I enjoy it!” And Jonas hurried away to inspect the Ida.

It was so biting cold, now that the afternoon was late, that all the wrecked crew changed clothing before attempting to make camp or unload the Ida.

“How many miles have we made by this venture, Milton?” called Enoch, as he pulled on his moccasins.

“One and a half!”