found
that endless rapids interrupted our work, and down many of them the
canoes were run. The Hudson's Bay Company, however, never allows its
men to shoot rapids with fur-laden canoes; so it was on that wild
stretch of our trip that the skill of the voyageur was tested most.

FIGHTING WITH DEATH

At the head of one of the great rapids Oo-koo-hoo, seeing that I mated
well with one of his crew, invited me to take a paddle and help them
through. Tossing in an extra paddle for each canoeman we stepped
aboard, and with a gentle shove the current caught the light canoe and
carried us out to mid-stream. Long before we sighted white water the
roar of the cataract was humming in our ears. We midmen sat upon
dunnage sacks and braced our moccasined feet against the ribbing.
Presently the bowman stood up and scanned the river. Dark, ominous
water raced ahead for a hundred yards then disappeared, leaving nothing
but a great surging mass of white that leaped high and dropped out of
sight in the apparently forsaken river-bed. Then the steersman stood
up, too, and Indian words passed between them. Every moment we were
gaining impetus, and always heading for the highest crest of foam.
Waiting for the word to paddle was even worse than waiting for the
starter's gun in a sculling race. At last it came, just as we were
twenty-five yards from the end of dark water. With a wild shout from
the bowman we drove our paddles home. The great canoe trembled a
little at first, as our work was somewhat ragged, but a moment later we
settled into an even stroke and swept buoyantly among the tossing
billows. Now before us ran a strange wild river of seething white,
lashing among great, gray-capped, dark greenish boulders that blocked
the way. High rocky banks standing close together squeezed the mighty
river into a tumult of fury. Swiftly we glide down the racing torrent
and plunge through the boiling waters. Sharp rocks rear above the
flying spray while others are barely covered by the foaming flood. It
is dangerous work. We midmen paddle hard to force the canoe ahead of
the current. The steersman in bow and stern ply and bend their great
seven-foot paddles. The bowman with eyes alert keenly watches the
whirling waters and signs of hidden rocks below. The roar of seething
waters drowns the bowman's orders. The steersman closely watches and
follows every move his companion makes. Down we go, riding upon the
very back of the ri