Down, down, down the long slope before us, to where four miles away Hades Hills lifted an uncompromising barrier across the way, stretched the lake and river, black as ink now under leaden sky and shadowing hills.  The lake, which was three-quarters of a mile wide, dipped not only with the course of the river but appeared to dip also from one side to the other.  Not a ripple or touch of white could be seen anywhere.  All seemed motionless as if an unseen hand had touched and stilled it.  A death-like quiet reigned and as we glided smoothly down with the tide we could see all about us a soft, boiling motion at the surface of this black flood, which gave the sense of treachery as well as mystery.  As I looked down the long slope to where the river appeared to lose itself into the side of the mountain it seemed to me that there, if anywhere, the prophecy of Job’s dream must be fulfilled.  Cerberus might easily be waiting for us there.  He would have scarcely time to fawn upon us till we should go shooting past him into the Pit.

But after all the river was not shallow up in the mountain.  It only turned to the west and swifter than ever, we flew down with its current, no longer smooth and dark, but broken into white water over a broader bed of smooth-worn boulders, till three miles below we passed out into a quiet expansion, where the tension relaxed and with minds at ease we could draw in long, satisfying breaths.

The travelling day was a short one during this part of the trip, and I wondered often how the men stood the strain.  Once I asked Job if running rapids did not tire him very much.  He answered, “Yes,” with a smile and look of surprise that I should understand such a thing.

The nights were made hideous by the mosquitoes, and I slept little.  The loss of sleep made rapid running trying, and after a particularly bad night I would sit trembling with excitement as we raced down the slope.  It was most difficult to resist the impulse to grasp the sides of the canoe, and to compel myself instead to sit with hands clasped about my knee, and muscles relaxed so that my body might lend itself to the motion of the canoe.  Sometimes as we ran towards the west the river glittered so in the afternoon sunshine that it was impossible to tell what the water was doing.  This made it necessary to land now and again, so that Job might go forward and look over the course.  As the bow of the canoe turned inshore, the current caught the stern and whirled it round with such force and suddenness, that only the quick setting of a paddle on the shoreward side kept the little craft from being dashed to pieces against the rocks.

On Thursday, August 24th, I wrote in my diary:  “Such a nice sleep last night albeit blankets and ‘comfortable’ so wet (the stopper of my hot-water bottle had not been properly screwed in the night before and they were soaked).  Beautiful morning.  Mountains ahead standing out against the clear sky with delicate clouds of white mist hanging along their sides or veiling the tops.  One just at the bend is very, very fine.  It reminds me of an Egyptian pyramid.  Job is not feeling well this morning and it bothers me.  I asked him if it were too many rapids.  He smiled and said, ’I don’t know,’ but as if he thought that might be the trouble.