the usual delay of getting started, "I
could almost fetch them a rap over the head with an oar and bury them in
the river."

"Same here," Shorty agreed. "They're not meat-eaters. They're
fish-eaters, and they sure stink."

They came to the rapids; first, the Box Canyon, and, several miles
below, the White Horse. The Box Canyon was adequately named. It was a
box, a trap. Once in it, the only way out was through. On either side
arose perpendicular walls of rock. The river narrowed to a fraction of
its width and roared through this gloomy passage in a madness of motion
that heaped the water in the center into a ridge fully eight feet higher
than at the rocky sides. This ridge, in turn, was crested with stiff,
upstanding waves that curled over yet remained each in its unvarying
place. The Canyon was well feared, for it had collected its toll of dead
from the passing goldrushers.

Tying to the bank above, where lay a score of other anxious boats, Kit
and his companions went ahead on foot to investigate. They crept to
the brink and gazed down at the swirl of water. Sprague drew back,
shuddering.

"My God!" he exclaimed. "A swimmer hasn't a chance in that."

Shorty touched Kit significantly with his elbow and said in an
undertone:

"Cold feet. Dollars to doughnuts they don't go through."

Kit scarcely heard. From the beginning of the boat trip he had been
learning the stubbornness and inconceivable viciousness of the elements,
and this glimpse of what was below him acted as a challenge. "We've got
to ride that ridge," he said. "If we get off it we'll hit the walls."

"And never know what hit us," was Shorty's verdict. "Can you swim,
Smoke?"

"I'd wish I couldn't if anything went wrong in there."

"That's what I say," a stranger, standing alongside and peering down
into the Canyon, said mournfully. "And I wish I were through it."

"I wouldn't sell my chance to go through," Kit answered.

He spoke honestly, but it was with the idea of heartening the man. He
turned to go back to the boat.

"Are you going to tackle it?" the man asked.

Kit nodded.

"I wish I could get the courage to," the other confessed. "I've been
here for hours. The longer I look, the more afraid I am. I am not a
boatman, and I have with me only my nephew, who is a young boy, and my
wife. If you get through safely, will you run my boat through?"

Kit looked at Shorty, who delayed to answer.

"He's got his wife with him," Kit suggested.