talk much, but by and by he put his hand in the water as if to measure
the speed of the current.

"_Contox hiyu chuck_," he said in Chinook.

Jim imagined he meant the river was rising and did not know if this was
a drawback or not. A flood might make poling harder, but it would
cover the rocks in the channel and probably leave an eddying slack
along the bank. He agreed with the Indian, because the rock to which
they had moored the canoe was getting smaller. It made a kind of
breakwater, but it would be covered soon and the craft would feel the
force of the current. Still they ought to ride safely, and an angry
wash now beat against the bank of gravel where they had landed. There
was no other landing, for, below the camp, the river ran in white waves
between the rocks.

Although Jim was tired, he could not sleep. For one thing, he had lost
time at the settlement and on the river; Jake was waiting for the
tools, and since wages were high, delay was costly. Then the gorge
echoed with pulsating noise. The roar of the rapid rose and fell; he
heard the wash of the eddy against the bank, the sharp ripple where the
current split upon the rock, and the rattle of gravel striking the
stones. The canoes rocked, swung to and fro, and brought up with
sudden jerks. He did not know if the Indian slept, but if he did, a
new note in the confused uproar would waken him.

After a time, the fellow moved, and as his dark figure rose Jim became
alert. The Indian was looking fixedly ahead, but Jim could see nothing
in the gloom. He noted mechanically that the rock had vanished; its
location was marked by a wedge-shaped streak of foam. He signed to the
Indian, who grunted but did not speak.

Then there was a crash as something struck the rock and a vague dark
mass rebounded from and swung round the obstacle. It rolled, and
half-seen projections vanished and appeared again. Jim got on his
knees and seized a pole, because he imagined a big log with broken
branches was driving down on them. A river canoe is unstable, and to
stand on the cargo might capsize her. He found bottom with the pole
and saw the Indian paddling hard. The row of canoes swung towards the
bank, but the backwash caught them and it looked as if they would not
swing far enough. Jim felt the veins on his forehead tighten and the
pole bend as he strained with labored breath.

The log came on; its butt under water, its ragged top riding high and
swinging r