It was a mighty roaring like the furious boiling of some giant
kettle. A thousand shouting voices seemed blended into one to form
the music, of this ominous orchestra. Louder the noise grew and
louder, as the pass through which the river now tore like a runaway
race-horse grew narrower and blacker.
What could the awful uproar mean?
They had not long to wait before the truth burst upon them. They
were nearing, at what seemed express speed, a whirling, roaring mass
of waters that shouted at them like some animal calling for its
prey. The boys' cheeks blanched as they realized that nothing but a
miracle could save them from being sucked into this watery abyss.
Desperately they plied their paddles but if they had been useless
further up the stream they were doubly inefficient now. If they had
stroked against the rushing current with feathers they could not
have had less effect in checking the death rush of the canoe, which
was tossed along on the racing tide like a chip of wood.
Suddenly the canoe was struck a terrific blow.
Before either boy could realize what had happened they were both
struggling in the water. So dazed were they by the mishap that it
was several minutes before they understood that they were clinging
to the to the trunk of some huge tree.
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