frugal supper that night.

"Maybe-so forty mile, maybe-so sixty," said Leo.

"Can we make it in one day?"

Leo shook his head soberly.

"Two days?"

Leo shook his head.

"Three days?"

"Maybe-so," said he, at last. "Plenty bad water below here," said he.

"Well, I haven't seen any of these awful canyons yet that you've been
telling about," said John.

Leo smiled. "To-morrow see 'um plenty," said he. "Pretty soon come
Death Eddy, then Death Canyon, then Death Rapids, then Priest Rapids.
All them bad places. Maybe-so can't run, water too high."

"We'll not get out of here any too soon, that's sure," said Uncle
Dick. "The best time to run any of these mountain rivers is in the
fall, for then the water is lowest. But a day or two more will tell
the tale for us. So, Moise, please don't starve us any more than you
have to--I could eat a whole porcupine now myself if I had one."

That night at the fireside Uncle Dick saw the boys bending over close
together, and looked at them curiously, for they seemed to be writing.

"What's up, young men?" said he.

"Well, we're making our wills," said Rob. "We haven't got much to give
to anybody, of course, but you know, in case of any accident, we
thought the folks ought to know about it. Not that we're afraid. I was
just thinking that so many people were lost here that never were heard
of again."

Uncle Dick did not smile at Rob's frank confession, but liked the boys
all the more for it.

"Well," said he, "that's all right, too. I'm willing to admit that
when I ran the Rock Canyon above the Boat Encampment last year I did a
little writing myself and put it in my pocket, and I tied one leg to
the boat with a rope, too. But please don't be too much alarmed over
anything we've said, for if the canyons should prove too bad we will
line down with the boat; and if we can't line down, then we will all
take to the woods."

None the less, the boys were all very quiet that night and slept but
little.

"I don't like that water at all," whispered Jesse to John. "You can
hear it growling and groaning all night long, as though it were
gnashing its teeth--I don't like it at all."

And, indeed, even on top of their high bank they could hear the
strange noises that come up always from the Columbia River when the
high water is on. The stream where they were encamped was several
hundred yards in width, but now the run-off waters of the mighty
snow-sheds were making the river each