er and the wind, especially in the shadows, was so very
cold that we gave this plan up, and avoided the waves as much as
possible. He got a ducking this morning, however, in a place where we
least expected it. It was not a rapid, just smooth, very swift water,
while close to the right shore there was one submerged rock with a
foot of water shooting over it, in such a way that it made a "reverse
whirl" as they are called in Alaska--water rolling back upstream, and
from all sides as well, to fill the vacuum just below the rock. This
one was about twelve feet across; the water disappeared as though it
was being poured down a manhole.

The least care, or caution, would have taken me clear this place; but
the smooth water was so deceptive, and was so much stronger than I had
judged it to be, that I found myself caught sideways to the current,
hemmed in with waves on all sides of the boat, knocked back and forth,
and resisted in all my efforts to pull clear. The boat was gradually
filling with the splashing water. Ernest was lying on the deck,
hanging on like grim death, slipping off, first on one side, then on
the other, and wondering what was going to happen. So was I. To be
held up in the middle of a swift stream was a new experience, and I
was not proud of it. The others passed as soon as they saw what had
happened, and were waiting in an eddy below. Perhaps we were there
only one minute, but it seemed like five. I helped Ernest into the
cockpit. About that time the boat filled with splashing water and sunk
low, the stream poured over the rock and into the boat, and she upset
instantly.

Ernest had on two life-preservers, and came up about thirty feet
below, swimming very well considering that he was weighted with heavy
clothes and high-topped shoes. The boys pulled him in before he was
carried against a threatening wall. Meanwhile, I held to the boat,
which was forced out as soon as she was overturned, and climbed on
top, or rather on the bottom. I was trying to make the best of things
and was giving a cheer when some one said, "There goes your hatch
cover and you've lost the motion-picture camera."

Perhaps I had. My cheering ceased. The camera had been hurriedly
shoved down in the hatch a few minutes before.

On being towed to shore, however, we found the camera had not fallen
out. It had been shoved to the side less than one inch, but that
little bit had saved it. It was filled with water, though, and all the
pic