The Frontier Boys in the Grand Canyon Part 26

Our first preliminary run was through a ravine, where the river was about two hundred feet wide. I had the most thrilling position in the bow, as I could see first what was ahead.

For the first three miles our course lay straight and the water swept steadily along with a tremendous power in it that made us feel our insignificance.

But at the end of the three miles the river narrowed to a gorge and I could hear the roar of rapids ahead, the first of many that we were to encounter.

It is impossible to describe the peculiar sensation of being dashed along helpless into something that we could not see, and the hazard of which we could not imagine. Judgment must be instantaneous and a single mistake meant destruction.

CHAPTER XX

OUR FIRST DAY

Jim depended on me very largely for his orders, as he had to give his whole attention to the steering oar.

"Now, Jo, watch sharp for rocks," he yelled.

I nodded my head. We were almost at the beginning of our first real canyon. It seemed like going into a cave full of hundreds of roaring lions. The white-grey rocks rose up for a thousand feet or more and there was no sunlight at the bottom of the canyon, only a cold, forbidding gloom.

We had no time to become frightened, there was always something to do, some quick decision to make, no time for backing out.

Then we shot down into the gloom of the canyon with resistless force.

Never shall I forget that turmoil of sensation that was like the turmoil of the river around us.

About a hundred yards ahead a great rock divided the river. We were bearing down upon it.

"Starboard," I yelled, bending my head in the direction, and pulling with all my might, while Tom backed water and I could see the bow swerve as Jim bent to the steering oar.

Then we swept sideways from the rack. I thought we were going to be sent square over, flopped like a pancake.

We were on a big slant and I could do nothing with my oar. We plunged down into the river and a swift current was bearing us straight to the precipitous wall as fast, it seemed to me, as an arrow from the bow.

I had not time to use my oar, so drew it in and picked up a long pole that we had for just such an emergency. Tom sprang back to help Jim at the steering oar, and their combined strength made the boat swerve. How they pulled! Double their ordinary strength. It told though.

I braced my feet against the sideboards, near the bow, and as we came slanting to the cliff I shoved against the rock with all my weight and might.

The water piled up against the side bow and I swerved it clear by a couple of feet, and with a mighty wrench at the steering oar, we swept by the precipice and out into the river again.

"A pretty close call," shouted Jim and Tom in chorus, and I agreed.

There was no time for rest and congratulation. The rapids humped themselves all around us, and we held a straight course amongst them. In a few minutes a greater peril than the one we had just pa.s.sed through faced us.

We could see a line of foam that seemed to extend across the river. An anxious look came into Jim's face. It was the first time that I had seen him look worried.

It was a quarter of a mile away. There was no place for us to stop, nothing but the precipitous cliffs on either side. We had to decide on a course and quickly.

"Through the center," yelled Jim. "It's our only chance."

Then I saw a split boulder in mid-stream and the water pa.s.sing through it. It did not look more than eight feet wide though it may have been ten.

We swept down towards it at race horse speed. There was a terrible roar of confused waters all around us. It depended on Jim, for we had to draw in our oars entirely, quite a distance before we reached the rock.

It seemed as if we were going into the jaws of destruction. One swerve and we would pile up against the rock and be rolled over and over to sure and certain death. Escape was impossible in that turbulent and terrible river, with its onrush of water.

As our oars were in, Tom jumped back to help Jim. I knelt in the bow waving my hands to direct them for my voice could not be heard. Jim, grim, with tense jaw and lips curled back as if he were snarling at the river that would cow him, guided her straight and true into the jaws of the dragon.

On a full tide of water we rushed between the rocks that seemed to dash by as do objects by an express train going at full speed, not a foot to spare on either side. Then we plunged like a shot down the streaked incline of foam sprinkled water into the river below.

I thought the bow was going clean under, and I ran back toward the stern. Talk about going down hill on a sled, this beat it altogether.

This was the proper move, because our combined weight in the stern, of nearly four hundred pounds, helped to keep the bow up some. But she s.h.i.+pped a good deal of water.

After sliding down hill for a half mile further we ran into quieter water, and within an hour we were out of the narrow canyon into an open and more sluggish current.

"Tom, you steer now for awhile!" commanded Jim. "It's easy, and Jo and I will bail."

"I bet you feel pretty well used up, Jim," I suggested. "It was terrible work for awhile."

"I'll feel it in my shoulders to-morrow, I reckon," he admitted. "But what do you think of that last sprint we made between the rocks? That was a 'la-la-peruso.'" This was Jim's ultimate term of expression; he never got higher than that and he used it but rarely.

"Think of it!" I exclaimed. "I don't want to think of it. It makes me dizzy even now. What luck to get through!"

Jim's face sobered for a moment.

"It was partly my steering and partly providential," he said. "Otherwise we would never have made it. I don't believe that we will strike anything worse in its way than that."

After we had finished bailing, Jim sat on the deck house looking over his boat with commendable pride.

"Well, boys, what do you think of 'The Captain?'" he asked. "She looks all right to me."

"She certainly is," I replied, "and she don't s.h.i.+p as much water as I expected."

"She rides light for such a boat, too, keeps her head well above water,"

remarked Jim, "but one thing has got to be done and that is to cut holes in the sides so the water will drain out quickly. Otherwise we will be carrying a good many more hundred pounds than we need to."

"You come and try your hand at steering, Jo," said Tom. "It's lots of fun."

"It's a shame to deprive you of the pleasure," I returned.

Still I had some curiosity to see how she steered, so after awhile I relieved Tom. It was interesting work where there were no especial obstructions, and the current was running broadly and smoothly as it was at this point.

"She steers fine, Jim," I said. "You can get a big purchase on this oar standing up."

"See how you can get around that rock ahead," he called.

I could see its grey back bulging up from the water ahead, and the foam bubbling around it. I bent to the oar, swinging the bow around, and went by the rock in good shape.