nt, on Auntie Sue's side of the stream, where one could go
ashore from a skiff.

From the porch of the house, one, facing up the river, looked over the
gently sloping garden, over the eddy lying under the high bank, and away
over a beautiful reach of water known as The Bend,--a wide, sweeping
curve which, a mile distant, is lost behind a wooded bluff where, at
times, during the vacation or hunting season, one might see the smoke
from the stone chimney of a clubhouse which was built and used by people
who lived in the big, noisy city many miles from the peaceful Ozark
scene. From the shore of The Bend, opposite and above Auntie Sue's
place, beyond the willows that fringe the water's edge, the low
bottom-lands extend back three-quarters of a mile to the foot of a
heavily timbered ridge, beyond which rise the higher hills. But directly
across from Auntie Sue's house, this ridge curves sharply toward the
stream; while less than a quarter of a mile below, a mighty mountain-arm
is thrust out from a shoulder of Schoolhouse Hill, as if to bar
the river's way. The high bluff thus formed is known to the natives
throughout all that region as Elbow Rock.

The quiet waters of The Bend move so gently on their broad course that
from the porch, looking up the stream, the eye could scarcely mark the
current. But in front of the little log house, where the restraining
banks of the river draw closer together, the lazy current awakens to
quickening movement. Looking down the stream, one could see the waters
leaving the broad and quiet reaches of The Bend above and rushing away
with fast increasing speed between the narrowing banks until, in all
their vicious might, they dashed full against the Elbow Rock cliff,
where, boiling and tossing in mad fury, they roared away at a right
angle and so around the point and on to another quiet stretch below. And
many were the tales of stirring adventure and tragic accident at this
dangerous point of the river's journey to the far-away sea. Skilled
rivermen, by holding their John-boats and canoes close to the far
shore, might run the rapids with safety. But no boat, once caught in the
vicious grip of the main current between the comparatively still waters
of The Bend and that wild, roaring tumult at Elbow Rock, had ever
survived.

It was nearing the close of a late summer day, and Auntie Sue, as was
her custom, stood on the porch watching the sunset. In the vast field of
sky that arched above the sof