CONQUERING THE RAPIDS
This part of the stream, for some two miles above the Ellison dam, was
deep, still water, lying between quite steep banks, and there was little
perceptible current. So that now, the water being unruffled by any wind,
the four canoes shot ahead at good speed, retaining generally their
relative positions.
Tom and Bob gradually quickened their stroke, hoping to make some slight
but sure gain on the leaders; but the Ellison brothers were evidently of
a mind to hold their lead as long as possible, and continued to do so.
This, however, was at the cost of some extra exertion, which might tell
in the long run.
In the course of half an hour, after leaving the dam, the current began
to flow faster against them; now and then it came down over shoals of
quite an incline, so that they made better headway by getting out their
setting-poles and using them, instead of the paddles.
Then, at a point a mile farther up stream, they came to rapids of some
considerable extent, flowing quite swiftly and boiling here and there
around sunken rocks. The Ellison brothers had avoided this place, and
were to be seen now, on the right bank of the shore, carrying their
canoe with difficulty.
The shore here was broken up by the out-cropping of ledges, amid the
breaks of which a canoe must be carried with great care, as a false step
would mean a bad fall and perhaps the smashing of the canoe. The only
other alternative, besides the water, was to make a long detour through
the off-lying fields, with loss of time.
Tom and Bob guided their craft swiftly in to land and proceeded to drag
it ashore, as the Ellison boys had done. The Warren brothers followed,
and Jack Harvey was turning his canoe in the same direction when a word
from his companion caused him to cease paddling.
"Jack," said Henry Burns, "I think we could make the rapids. What do you
say? If we win out, we may be in time to call the Ellison fellows back."
It was a rule of the race that, if a canoe succeeded in ascending any
difficult place in the stream, the successful pair was entitled to call
back any of the other canoes that were still carrying around the place,
and make them do likewise. If, however, any of the canoeists had made
the carry completely, and had launched their craft above, they could not
be called back.
The Ellison brothers were about half way up the carry at this time.
"I don't think we could do it, Henry," answered Harvey, to the other's
suggestion. "We could get part of the way up, all right, but the last
few rods are too steep."
He pointed, as he spoke, to the upper incline of the rapids, which was,
indeed, much sharper than the first of the ascent, bending over from the
higher level of the stream abruptly, like a sheet of rounded, polished
ebony; flowing smoothly but with great swiftness; then broken here and
there below with rocks, sharp and jagged, and foaming threateningly as
it whirled past them.
"I think we can do it, Jack," insisted Henry Burns, quietly. "I remember
the place. The water was a little higher when we came through in the
rain; but we ran these rapids, and don't you remember, half way down
that steepest part, we thought we were going to hit a sunken ledge--just
to the right of the middle of the slope?"
"Why, yes, seems to me I do," replied Harvey, gazing ahead. "But I
didn't care much what we hit that evening, I was so wet and tired."
"Well, look now," continued Henry Burns. "You can see the water whirling
at that very spot. The ledge doesn't show above water, but it's there.
What's the matter with working up to that, hanging on it till we get
rested, and then make one quick push up over the top?"
"Oh, well," said Harvey, "I'm game. You seem to guess things right.
We'll try it, anyway."
They pushed on into the first of the rapids, while the Ellison brothers,
turning and espying what they were attempting, redoubled their efforts
to make the carry. Tom and Bob cast a glance back, and also continued
along the carry; but George and Arthur Warren, having seen Henry Burns's
schemes work successfully before, turned and came out to the rapids.
There they waited, ready to make the attempt should they see it prove
successful, or to be in a position to put hurriedly for shore should it
prove a failure.
"Better come on. You're wasting time," called Tom Harris once, as he set
his end of their canoe down on a shelf of ledge. But Henry Burns made no
reply, while Harvey only waved his paddle defiantly.
For several rods, Harvey and Henry Burns made fair progress, working
quick and sharp, plying their paddles with rapid thrusts. Little clumps
of white froth floated fast by them, indicating the swift running of the
water, and its disturbance. Then the stronger current caught them, and
they barely forged ahead. By the appearance of the water, looking down
upon it as they struggled, they seemed to be flying; but it was the
water, and not they, that was moving rapidly. They hung close by the
little points of projecting ledge for moments at a time, making no
headway. They redoubled their efforts, drove their paddles through the
water with desperate energy, and gained the first mark they had set.
Slowly the bow of the canoe crept up to a spot where the keen eyes of
Henry Burns had noted the sunken ledge, at a point only a rod from the
upper incline. This ledge did not show above water, but the boiling of
the stream and an almost imperceptible sloping of the surface on either
hand showed that it was there.
Henry Burns leaned over the side of the canoe and gazed anxiously.
Should the water there prove deeper than he had hoped, they would not
ground, and must be carried back, their strength exhausted. But he had
not been mistaken.
In a moment the water suddenly shallowed. A hard thrust with the
paddles, and the canoe grated gently.
"Easy, Jack," cried Henry Burns. "She's hit. Get out the pole."
Harvey seized the setting-pole from the bottom of the canoe, dropping
his paddle in its place. He thrust it quick and with all his strength
into the swift-running water. At a depth of about three feet it caught
the rocky bottom and held. Harvey braced with the pole and shoved the
bow of the canoe, which had touched on the part of the ledge that was
close to the surface, a little farther ahead.
"Great!" shouted Henry Burns. "Take it easy now. She'll stay if the pole
don't slip."
Harvey relaxed his exertions, holding the pole at an angle sufficient to
keep the canoe where it was, with only slight pressure. Henry Burns,
dropping his own paddle and likewise taking up his setting-pole, got a
grip in the rocks and aided his companion. They could rest now, with the
swift water rushing past them on either bow, and recover their wind and
strength for the final struggle.
Their plan was, when they should have rested, to let the canoe drop back
about a foot, enough to clear the sunken ledge; then, before the current
should catch them, to shove out into it quickly, turn the bow of the
canoe to meet the rush of the rapids, and push over with the poles, by
main strength. They could do it, if, as Henry Burns expressed it, the
canoe "did not get away from them."
The five minutes they waited seemed like hours. Away up along the carry,
they could see the Ellison brothers, lifting their canoe across the
broken bits of shore; Tom and Bob some way behind these, hurrying as
fast as they dared over the treacherous footing. But now, as they
gathered their strength, and gently shoved their canoe back, a cry from
Tom, who had noted their move, arrested the progress of the Ellison
boys. They paused for a moment and, with Tom and Bob, watched the
outcome, eagerly.
Alas! it was sharp and bitter for Henry Burns. The canoe hung for a
moment, as they arrested its drifting with strong thrusts of the poles.
Then it shot ahead, as they pushed its nose diagonally out into the
sharp slope of the rapids. Henry Burns thrust his pole down hard, as
they cleared the sunken ledge, to swing the bow straight into the
current. But the bottom proved treacherous.
It was all over so quickly that neither he nor Harvey knew hardly how it
had happened. He only knew that the pole did not catch, but instead,
struck the slippery face of a smooth bit of the rocky channel, slipped,
gave way, and that he barely recovered his balance to avoid going
overboard.
The next moment, the canoe had swung around, receiving the full force of
the current broadside. A moment more, they were running with it and
being borne down to where George and Arthur Warren greeted them with
cries--not all sympathetic--of "hard luck."
They had hardly got their canoe under control and turned it into an
eddy, and had realized the unhappy turn of affairs, when a shout of
derision and triumph came down to them from the Ellisons. They had made
the carry successfully and were launching their canoe in the smooth
water above.
The Warren boys lost no time in paddling for shore. Tom and Bob, seeing
the discomfiture of their rivals, quickly picked up their canoe and
proceeded along the carry. Harvey looked inquiringly at Henry Burns, who
turned, smiling and unruffled.
"Well?" said Harvey, "got enough?"
"No," replied Henry Burns, and added deliberately, with a twinkle in his
eyes, "we might as well do it, now we've started. We've got two days to
get up over there in, you know."
"Good for you!" exclaimed Harvey. "Come on, if you're ready. We've got
time yet before Tom and Bob make the carry."
They bent to the paddles and got once more to the sunken ledge, panting
and perspiring, for they had worked hard and the current seemed,
therefore, even swifter now than before. There, holding their canoe in
place, they waited a little longer than on the first attempt, to rest
and study the current.
"Let's try the right hand from the ledge this time," said Henry Burns.
"Those whirls mean shallow places. Perhaps the bottom isn't so
slippery."
He pointed at some almost imperceptible breaks in the ebony surface of
the slope, and Harvey agreed.
"I can shove this canoe up over there as sure as you're alive," said
Harvey, gazing proudly at a pair of muscular arms that were certainly
eloquent of strength; "that is, if you can keep her head straight. Don't
try to do much of the poling. Just try to hold what I gain each time,
till I can get a fresh hold. What do you say--rested enough?"
"Aye, aye, captain," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "Up we go."
Again the canoe dropped back a little from the ledge, and again they
caught and held it and shoved out into the current--this time on the
right, instead of the left side.
Their comrades ashore watched anxiously. They saw the canoe strike the
swift running of the water and hang for a moment, as if irresolute,
uncertain whether it would turn its bow upstream or be swerved
broadside. The moment it hung there seemed minutes in duration. They saw
Henry Burns, lithe and agile, but cool and self-possessed, strike his
pole into the slope of the water where he had seen a shallow spot. And
the pole held.
The watchers ashore saw the canoe slowly turn and face the swift
current, lying upon its polished slope as though upon a sheet of glass.
They saw Harvey in the stern set his pole and shove mightily, his
muscles knotted and his face drawn and grim with determination. They saw
the canoe slowly gain against the current.
[Illustration: "THE WATCHERS ASHORE SAW THE CANOE SLOWLY TURN AND FACE
THE SWIFT CURRENT."]
At the edge of the slope it stood still for what seemed an age. They saw
the two in bow and stern struggle desperately again and again to wrest
their craft from the clutch of the current. Then, almost with a leap,
freed from the fierce resistance of the rapids, the canoe slid over the
brink of the incline, into the deeper part of the stream above.
A moment later, they saw the poles dropped and the paddles snatched up.
The canoe shot swiftly ahead, propelled by triumphant arms. The rapids
were conquered. Henry Burns and Harvey had won their hard fight.
In vain had Tom and Bob, hurrying recklessly, bumping their canoe along
the rough shore, essayed to complete the carry before it would be too
late. To their chagrin and dismay, the sound of a horn blown three times
with a vigour announced to them the triumph of their comrades. Sadly
they shouldered their canoe, which they had set down at the first blast
of the horn, and turned their faces back along the trail, toward the
foot of the rapids.
Likewise, the Warren boys, accepting the inevitable, turned back and
prepared to attempt the difficult feat which they had seen accomplished.
At all events, they were, by reason of their position in the rear of Tom
and Bob, in possession of that much advantage over the more skilled
canoeists.
"Whew! but that was a tough one," exclaimed Harvey, dipping his paddle
leisurely, and recovering his breath. "Say, look at poor old Tom and
Bob--the champion canoeists. Bet they feel sore."
Henry Burns turned, looked back and smiled. Then, gazing up stream
again, he said, "Yes, but look there."
At a bend of the stream, fully a half mile ahead, the first canoe was
gliding easily along.
Harvey groaned. "And they'd be back there, too," he exclaimed, "if we
hadn't made that slip. Never mind, there's another day coming."
It seemed a long, long time, and they, themselves, had reached a point
fully a half mile above the rapids, before they espied first one canoe
and then another achieving the incline. They could not discern which was
in the lead, but it proved later to be the canoe handled by Tom and Bob,
the Warrens having made two failures before succeeding, giving time to
the others to come up and pass them. They were about abreast now, coming
along slowly.
It was smooth paddling now, along the shores of green meadows and
pasture land, until noon arrived. Then, at the signal of four blasts of
the horn, by Harvey, answered in turn by all the others above and below,
the canoes were drawn out on shore and luncheon was eaten. They built no
fires, but ate what they had brought, cold. With an hour to rest in,
the leaders strolled back to where Harvey and Henry Burns were, and
chaffed them good-naturedly on their failure to make them take the
rapids, and over their own strong lead. To which, Harvey and Henry
Burns, being good sportsmen, replied good-humouredly, assuring the
Ellisons they should beat them on "the next hard place."
The other canoeists remained where they were, and ate their luncheons
together.