n the home of an old arrow-maker.
_August 21.--_We start early this morning, cheered by the prospect of a
fine day and encouraged also by the good run made yesterday. A quarter
of a mile below camp the river turns abruptly to the left, and between
camp and that point is very swift, running down in a long, broken chute
and piling up against the foot of the cliff, where it turns to the left.
We try to pull across, so as to go down on the other side, but the
waters are swift and it seems impossible for us to escape the rock
below; but, in pulling across, the bow of the boat is turned to the
farther shore, so that we are swept broadside down and are prevented by
the rebounding waters from striking against the wall. We toss about for
a few seconds in these billows and are then carried past the danger.
Below, the river turns again to the right, the canyon is very narrow,
and we see in advance but a short distance. The water, too, is very
swift, and there is no landing-place. From around this curve there comes
a mad roar, and down we are carried with a dizzying velocity to the head
of another rapid. On either side high over our heads there are
overhanging granite walls, and the sharp bends cut off our view, so that
a few minutes will carry us into unknown waters. Away we go on one long,
winding chute. I stand on deck, supporting myself with a strap fastened
on either side of the gunwale. The boat glides rapidly where the water
is smooth, then, striking a wave, she leaps and bounds like a thing of
life, and we have a wild, exhilarating ride for ten miles, which we make
in less than an hour. The excitement is so great that we forget the
danger until we hear the roar of a great fall below; then we back on our
oars and are carried slowly toward its head and succeed in landing just
above and find that we have to make another portage. At this we are
engaged until some time after dinner.
Just here we run out of the granite. Ten miles in less than half a day,
and limestone walls below. Good cheer returns; we forget the storms and
the gloom and the cloud-covered canyons and the black granite and the
raging river, and push our boats from shore in great glee.
Though we are out of the granite, the river is still swift, and we wheel
about a point again to the right, and turn, so as to head back in the
direction from which we came; this brings the granite in sight again,
with its narrow gorge and black crags; but we meet with no more gr
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