A half-mile below the
rapids was the confluence of the two rivers. The sight of the tumbling
mass of white water, and the gloomy and colossal grandeur of the Devil's
Slide, a buttress of the hills, was very fine.
But there was more than scenery to interest us here, for, moving quickly
towards the Slide, was a boat with three people in it. They were
evidently intending to attempt that treacherous passage, which culminated
in a series of eddies, a menace to even the best oarsman ship. They
certainly were not aware of their danger, for there came over the water
the sound of a man's laughing voice, and the two women in the boat were
in unconcerned attitudes. Roscoe shouted to them, and motioned them back,
but they did not appear to understand.
The man waved his hat to us, and rowed on. There was but one thing for us
to do: to make the passage quickly through the safe channel of the
rapids, and to be of what service we could on the other side of the
Slide, if necessary. We bent to the oars, and the boat shot through the
water. Ruth held the rudder firmly, and her young sister and Mrs. Revel
sat perfectly still.
Pages:
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252