d been the home of an old arrow-maker.

_August 21._ We start early this morning, cheered by the prospect of a
fine day, and encouraged, also, by the good run made yesterday. A
quarter of a mile below camp the river turns abruptly to the left, and
between camp and that point is very swift, running down in a long,
broken chute, and piling up against the foot of the cliff, where it
turns to the left. We try to pull across, so as to go down on the other
side, but the waters are swift, and it seems impossible for us to escape
the rock below; but, in pulling across, the bow of the boat is turned to
the farther shore, so that we are swept broadside down, and are
prevented, by the rebounding waters, from striking against the wall.
There we toss about for a few seconds in these billows, and are carried
past the danger. Below, the river turns again to the right, the canon is
very narrow, and we see in advance but a short distance. The water, too,
is very swift, and there is no landing-place. From around this curve
there comes a mad roar, and down we are earned, with a dizzying
velocity, to the head of another rapid. On either side, high over our
heads, there are overhanging granite walls, and the sharp bends cut off
our view, so that a few minutes will carry us into unknown waters. Away
we go, on one long winding chute. I stand on deck, supporting myself
with a strap, fastened on either side to the gunwale, and the boat
glides rapidly, where the water is smooth, or, striking a wave, she
leaps and bounds like a thing of life, and we have a wild, exhilarating
ride for ten miles, which we make in less than an hour. The excitement
is so great that we forget the danger, until we hear the roar of a great
fall below; then we back on our oars, and are carried slowly towards its
head, and succeed in landing just above, and find that we have to make
another portage. At this we are engaged until some time after dinner.

Just here we run out of the granite!

Ten miles in less than half a day, and limestone walls below. Good cheer
returns; we forget the storms, and the gloom, and cloud-covered canons,
and the black granite, and the raging river, and push our boats from
shore in great glee.

Though we are out of the granite, the river is still swift, and we wheel
about a point again to the right, and turn, so as to head back in the
direction from which we come, and see the granite again, with its narrow
gorge and black crags; but we meet w