"Stranger," was the latter's rejection, "I come into this country to
make money outa the ground an' not outa my fellow critters."

Breck rummaged in his boat and produced a demijohn of whiskey. Shorty's
hand half went out to it and stopped abruptly. He shook his head.

"There's that blamed White Horse right below, an' they say it's worse
than the Box. I reckon I don't dast tackle any lightning."

Several miles below they ran in to the bank, and all four walked down to
look at the bad water. The river, which was a succession of rapids, was
here deflected toward the right bank by a rocky reef. The whole body of
water, rushing crookedly into the narrow passage, accelerated its speed
frightfully and was up-flung into huge waves, white and wrathful. This
was the dread Mane of the White Horse, and here an even heavier toll of
dead had been exacted. On one side of the Mane was a corkscrew curl-over
and suck-under, and on the opposite side was the big whirlpool. To go
through, the Mane itself must be ridden.

"This plum rips the strings outa the Box," Shorty concluded.

As they watched, a boat took the head of the rapids above. It was a
large boat, fully thirty feet long, laden with several tons of outfit,
and handled by six men. Before it reached the Mane it was plunging and
leaping, at times almost hidden by the foam and spray.

Shorty shot a slow, sidelong glance at Kit and said: "She's fair
smoking, and she hasn't hit the worst. They've hauled the oars in. There
she takes it now. God! She's gone! No; there she is!"

Big as the boat was, it had been buried from sight in the flying smother
between crests. The next moment, in the thick of the Mane, the boat
leaped up a crest and into view. To Kit's amazement he saw the whole
long bottom clearly outlined. The boat, for the fraction of an instant,
was in the air, the men sitting idly in their places, all save one
in the stern, who stood at the steering-sweep. Then came the downward
plunge into the trough and a second disappearance. Three times the boat
leaped and buried itself, then those on the bank saw its nose take the
whirlpool as it slipped off the Mane. The steersman, vainly opposing
with his full weight on the steering-gear, surrendered to the whirlpool
and helped the boat to take the circle.

Three times it went around, each time so close to the rocks on which Kit
and Shorty stood that either could have leaped on board. The steersman,
a man with a reddish beard