the right and left, and all she could see was the stretch of gray
water immediately in front. It was wide and fretful, and in the
half-light someway vague and ominous. It had reached up about the
trunks of some of the young spruces on the river bank, and the little
trees trembled and bent, stirred by the waters; and they seemed like
drowning things dumbly signaling for help. Because the farther bank was
almost lost in the dusk the breadth of the stream appeared interminable.
In reality it was a full ninety yards at the shallower head of the
rapids where the moose trail led down to the water.

The roar of the river had come so gradually to her ear that now she was
hardly aware of it; indeed the wilderness seemed weighted with silence.
But it was true that she heard a terrifying roar farther down the
stream. Yet just beyond, perhaps a mile from the opposite bank, lay
camp and rest,--a comfortable cabin, warmth and food. She hoped they
would hurry and make the crossing.

But Bill halted at the water's edge, and she rode up beside him. He
seemed to be studying the currents. The pack train caught up, and
Lounsbury's horse nudged at the flank of her own animal. "Well?"
Lounsbury questioned. "What's the delay? We're in a hurry to get to
camp."

"It's pretty high," Bill replied softly. "I've never tried to cross
when it was so high as this." It was true. The rains and the snow had
made the stream a torrent.

"But, man, we can't camp here. No horse feed--no cabin. We've got to
go on."

"Wait just a minute. Time is precious, but we've got to think this
thing out. We can put up a tent here, and cold as it is, make through
the night someway. I'm not so sure that we hadn't ought to do it.
The river looks high, and it may be higher than it looks--it's hard
to tell in the twilight. Ordinarily I cross at the head of the
rapids--water less than three feet deep. But it isn't the depth that
counts--it's the swiftness. If the river is much over three feet, a
horse simply can't keep his feet--and Death Canyon is just below. To
be carried down into that torrent below means to die--two or three
parties, trying to ship furs down to the Yuga, have already lost their
lives in that very place. The shallows jump right off into ten feet of
water. It'll be tough to sleep out in this snow, but it's safer. But
if you say the word we'll make the try. At least I can ride in and see
how it goes--whether it's safe for you t