01 Amazon Adventure by Willard Price Page A

poised his paddle to be ready to stave off if necessary. But would the paddle break if it struck the rock at this speed, or would it pull out of his hand or run into his chest and throw him out of the boat?
    Luckily he did not have to find out. The canoe made a clean cut between the boulders and then smacked into the waves at the base of the incline. It was tossed up as lightly as if it had been a feather instead of a hollowed log, then came down to smash its way through the backlashers.
    The noise of the torrent was like the thunder of a train going over a bridge and the spray was blinding. What looked like a white curtain blocked their path. They tore a hole in it and found themselves in small choppy waves like afterthoughts, and then in smooth, swift water fanning out into a quiet pool.
    If ever there was a time when they would have liked to stop and rest and think, it was then. But they kept their paddles racing because, as the thunder of the rapids died away, they could once more hear the drums.
    ‘Good work,’ said dad weakly from the bottom of the boat.
    Hal looked back. ‘I hope the Indians take time to carry around that.’ Then he made a sudden exclamation and dug in his paddle. ‘There they come.’
    A canoe was poised at the top of the slide. With a whoop that sounded painfully like a war whoop the Indians sent their craft down the chute, skillfully dodged the rocks, then disappeared in the churning foam.
    The boys yelled with delight as they saw the boat come out of the lather upside down. Three dark bobbing objects marked the Indians. This was something to see, and dad tried to raise his head, but it was no go.
    Why had the Indians been capsized? Certainly they were skillful canoeists. Hal meditated that the cargo had helped to ballast his own boat through the rough water. And his father’s weight low down along the bottom had contributed to success.
    Another canoe now appeared at the top of the rapid. This one made the descent safely. Still
    another canoe followed. It rode on its beam for a tantalizing moment but righted itself in time.
    It was some satisfaction that both canoes turned back to rescue the swimmers and their boat. Hal and Roger made full use of this intermission. The dugout slid around a curve into a long, straight stretch that seemed to end in a mountain. As they came closer a slit appeared. The river vanished between two vertical cliffs.
    Here was a new problem. Hal was aware that a river usually narrows and speeds up in a gorge. There are not likely to be beaches or banks and the chances of making a landing in case of danger are very slim. Once in a gorge you can’t get out of it except at the other end.
    The right thing to do would be to stop and reconnoitre. He glanced back. The Indians had collected their forces and were charging down the river, three canoes abreast.
    Hal steered for the mouth of the canyon. It was narrow and dark and the river slicked into it at high speed.
    The Indians were only a hundred yards away now and coming full tilt. But there seemed to be confusion in their ranks. They were yelling in great excitement. They began to shoot but the arrows fell short. Just as the Hunts’ boat entered the canyon’s jaws, the pursuing canoes suddenly wheeled out of the current to the shelving shore.
    Roger yelped with joy. ‘They’re afraid to come on.
    But an icy chill went down Hal’s spine. It was not because of the cold shadow cast by the cliffs. If the Indians did not dare follow there must be something pretty bad ahead.
    He strained his ears for the sounds of rapids. The stillness got on Hal’s nerves. The river slid along rapidly without a ripple or murmur. The cliffs were only thirty feet apart and rose sheer from the water. Their black forbidding faces were about two hundred feet high. Overhead was a narrow ribbon of blue sky that seemed very far away as if it belonged to another world.
    ‘Ho-ho-fao!’ yelled Roger, who wanted to hear the echoes. Hal jumped