cruising the moment the hound had pointed the
direction for their pursuers.

"Not in a storm such as this." Thorvald, without releasing his hold on
the raft pole, pointed with his chin to the swirling haze cloaking the
air above the cut walls. Here the river dug yet deeper into the
beginning of a canyon. They could breathe better. The dust still sifted
down but not as thickly as a half hour earlier. Though over their heads
the sky was now a grayish lid, shutting out the sun, bringing a portion
of coolness to the travelers.

The Survey officer glanced from side to side, watching the banks as if
hunting for some special mark or sign. At last he used his pole as a
pointer to indicate a rough pile of boulders ahead. Some former
landslide had quarter dammed the river at that point, and the drift of
seasonal floods was caught in and among the rocky pile to form a prickly
peninsula.

"In there----"

They brought the raft to shore, fighting the faster current. The
wolverines, who had been subdued by the heat and the dust, flung
themselves to the rocks with the eagerness of passengers deserting a
sinking ship for certain rescue. Thorvald settled the map case more
securely between his arm and side before he took the same leap. When
they were all ashore he prodded the raft out into the stream again,
pushing the platform along until it was sucked by the current past the
line of boulders.

"Listen!"

But Shann had already caught that distant rumble of sound. It was
steady, beating like some giant drum. Certainly it did not herald a
Throg ship in flight and it came from ahead, not from their back trail.

"Rapids ... perhaps even the falls," Thorvald interpreted that faint
thunder. "Now, let's see what kind of a road we can find here."

The tongue of boulders, spiked with driftwood, was firmly based against
the wall of the cut. But it sloped up to within a few feet of the top of
that gap, more than one landslide having contributed to its fashioning.
The landing stage paralleled the river for perhaps some fifty feet.
Beyond it water splashed a straight wall. They would have to climb and
follow the stream along the top of the embankment, maybe being forced
well away from the source of the water.

By unspoken consent they both knelt and drank deeply from their cupped
hands, splashing more of the liquid over their heads, washing the dust
from their skins. Then they began to climb the rough assent up which the
wolverines had a