ck, no element of
uncertainty in the outcome. Here was a destiny against which the
strength of man was as thistledown in the wind! The thought was good
spiritual medicine for Ben, just as it would have been for most other
men, and his egoism died a swift and natural death.

One crash, one shock, and then the darkness and silence of the end! The
river would rage on, unsatiated by their few pounds of flesh, storming
by in noble fury; but no man would know whither they had gone and how
they had died. The walls of the gorge would not tremble one whit, or
notice; and the spruce against the sky would not bow their heads to show
that they had seen.

But the canyon broke at last, and the craft emerged into the sunlight.
It was good to see the easy slope of the hills again, the spruce
forests, and the forms of the wild creatures on the river bank, startled
by their passing. Noon came and passed, and for lunch they ate the last
of the fudge. And now a significant change was manifest in both of them.

Psychologists are ever astounded at the ability of mortals, men and
animals, to become adjusted to any set of circumstances. The wax of
habit sets almost in a day. The truth was, that in a certain measure
with very definite and restricted limits, both Ben and Beatrice were
becoming adjusted even to this amazing situation in which they found
themselves. This did not mean that Beatrice was in the least degree
reconciled to it. She had simply accepted it with the intention of
making the best of it. She had been abducted by an enemy of her father
and was being carried down an unknown and dangerous river; but the
element of surprise, the life of which is never but a moment, was
already passing away. Sometimes she caught herself with a distinct
start, remembering everything with a rage and a bitter load on her
heart; but the mood would pass quickly.

It is impossible, through any ordinary change of fortune, for a normal
person to lose his sense of self-identity. As long as that remains
exterior conditions can make no vital change, or make him feel greatly
different than he felt before. The change from a peasant to a
millionaire brings only a moment's surprise, and then readjustment.
Beatrice was still herself; the man in the stern remained Ben Darby and
no one else. Very naturally she began to talk to him, and he to answer
her.

The fact that they were bitter foes, one the victim of the other, did
not decree they could not have frien