or more and
there was no sunlight at the bottom of the canyon, only a cold,
forbidding gloom.

We had no time to become frightened, there was always something to do,
some quick decision to make, no time for backing out.

Then we shot down into the gloom of the canyon with resistless force.
Never shall I forget that turmoil of sensation that was like the turmoil
of the river around us.

About a hundred yards ahead a great rock divided the river. We were
bearing down upon it.

"Starboard," I yelled, bending my head in the direction, and pulling
with all my might, while Tom backed water and I could see the bow swerve
as Jim bent to the steering oar.

Then we swept sideways from the rack. I thought we were going to be sent
square over, flopped like a pancake.

We were on a big slant and I could do nothing with my oar. We plunged
down into the river and a swift current was bearing us straight to the
precipitous wall as fast, it seemed to me, as an arrow from the bow.

I had not time to use my oar, so drew it in and picked up a long pole
that we had for just such an emergency. Tom sprang back to help Jim at
the steering oar, and their combined strength made the boat swerve. How
they pulled! Double their ordinary strength. It told though.

I braced my feet against the sideboards, near the bow, and as we came
slanting to the cliff I shoved against the rock with all my weight and
might.

The water piled up against the side bow and I swerved it clear by a
couple of feet, and with a mighty wrench at the steering oar, we swept
by the precipice and out into the river again.

"A pretty close call," shouted Jim and Tom in chorus, and I agreed.

There was no time for rest and congratulation. The rapids humped
themselves all around us, and we held a straight course amongst them. In
a few minutes a greater peril than the one we had just passed through
faced us.

We could see a line of foam that seemed to extend across the river. An
anxious look came into Jim's face. It was the first time that I had seen
him look worried.

It was a quarter of a mile away. There was no place for us to stop,
nothing but the precipitous cliffs on either side. We had to decide on a
course and quickly.

"Through the center," yelled Jim. "It's our only chance."

Then I saw a split boulder in mid-stream and the water passing through
it. It did not look more than eight feet wide though it may have been
ten.

We swept down towards it at race