creatures.
Going down-stream on any river, mostly, would have been pleasure, but drifting on the swift current of the Santa Rosa and rowing under the wonderful moss-bearded cypresses was almost like a dream. It was too beautiful to seem real. The smooth stretch before the first rapid was short, however, and then all Ken's attention had to be given to the handling of the boat. He saw that George and Pepe both expected to get out and wade down the rapids as they had waded up. He had a surprise in store for them. The rapids that he could not shoot would have to be pretty bad.
"You're getting close," shouted George, warningly.
With two sweeps of the oars Ken turned the boat stern first down-stream, then dipped on the low green incline, and sailed down toward the waves. They struck the first wave with a shock, and the water flew all over the boys. Pepe was tremendously excited; he yelled and made wild motions with his hands; George looked a little frightened. Hal enjoyed it. Whatever the rapid appeared to them, it was magnificent to Ken; and it wa s play to manage the boat in such water. A little pull on one oar and then on the other kept the stern straight down-stream. The channel he could make out a long way ahead. He amused himself by watching George and Pepe. There were stones in the channel, and the water rose angrily about them. A glance was enough to tell that he could float over these without striking. But the boys thought they were going to hit every stone, and were uneasy all the time. Twice he had to work to pass ledges and sunken trees upon which the current bore down hard. When Ken neared one of these he dipped the oars and pulled back to stop or lessen the momentum; then a stroke turned the boat half broadside to the current. That would force it to one side, and another stroke would turn the boat straight. At the bottom of this rapid they encountered a long triangle of choppy waves that they bumped and splashed over. They came through with nothing wet but the raised flap of canvas in the stem.
Pepe regarded Ken with admiring eyes, and called him grande mozo.
" Shooting rapids is great sport," proclaimed George.
They drifted through several little rifts, and then stopped at the head of the narro w chute that had been such a stumbling-block on the way up. Looked at from above, this long, narrow channel, with several S curves, was a fascinating bit of water for a canoeist. It tempted Ken to shoot it even with the boat. But he remembered the four-foot waves at the bottom, and besides he resented the importunity of the spirit of daring so early in the game. Risk, and perhaps peril, would come soon enough. So he decided to walk along the shore and float the boat through with a rope.
The thing looked a good deal easier than it turned out to be. Half-way through,, at the narrowest point and most abrupt curve, Pepe misunderstood directions and pulled hard on the bow-rope, when he should have let it slack.
The boat swung in, nearly smashing Ken against the bank, and the sweeping current began to swell dangerously near the gunwale.
" Let go! Let go!" yelled Ken. " George, make him let go!"
But George, who was trying to get the rope out of Pepe's muscular hands, suddenly made a dive for his rifle.
" Deer! deer!" he cried, hurriedly throwing a shell into the chamber. He shot downstream, and Ken, looking that way, saw severa l deer under the firs on a rocky flat. George shot three more times, and the bullets went " spinging" into the trees. The deer bounded out of sight.
When Ken turned again, water was roaring into the boat. He was being pressed harder into the bank, and he saw disaster ahead.
" Loosen the rope--tell him, George," yelled Ken.
Pepe only pulled the harder.
" Quick, or we're ruined," cried Ken.
George shouted in Spanish, and Pepe promptly dropped the rope in the water. That was the worst thing he could have done.
" Grab the rope!" ordered Ken, wildly. " Grab the bow! Don't let it swing out! Hal
Going down-stream on any river, mostly, would have been pleasure, but drifting on the swift current of the Santa Rosa and rowing under the wonderful moss-bearded cypresses was almost like a dream. It was too beautiful to seem real. The smooth stretch before the first rapid was short, however, and then all Ken's attention had to be given to the handling of the boat. He saw that George and Pepe both expected to get out and wade down the rapids as they had waded up. He had a surprise in store for them. The rapids that he could not shoot would have to be pretty bad.
"You're getting close," shouted George, warningly.
With two sweeps of the oars Ken turned the boat stern first down-stream, then dipped on the low green incline, and sailed down toward the waves. They struck the first wave with a shock, and the water flew all over the boys. Pepe was tremendously excited; he yelled and made wild motions with his hands; George looked a little frightened. Hal enjoyed it. Whatever the rapid appeared to them, it was magnificent to Ken; and it wa s play to manage the boat in such water. A little pull on one oar and then on the other kept the stern straight down-stream. The channel he could make out a long way ahead. He amused himself by watching George and Pepe. There were stones in the channel, and the water rose angrily about them. A glance was enough to tell that he could float over these without striking. But the boys thought they were going to hit every stone, and were uneasy all the time. Twice he had to work to pass ledges and sunken trees upon which the current bore down hard. When Ken neared one of these he dipped the oars and pulled back to stop or lessen the momentum; then a stroke turned the boat half broadside to the current. That would force it to one side, and another stroke would turn the boat straight. At the bottom of this rapid they encountered a long triangle of choppy waves that they bumped and splashed over. They came through with nothing wet but the raised flap of canvas in the stem.
Pepe regarded Ken with admiring eyes, and called him grande mozo.
" Shooting rapids is great sport," proclaimed George.
They drifted through several little rifts, and then stopped at the head of the narro w chute that had been such a stumbling-block on the way up. Looked at from above, this long, narrow channel, with several S curves, was a fascinating bit of water for a canoeist. It tempted Ken to shoot it even with the boat. But he remembered the four-foot waves at the bottom, and besides he resented the importunity of the spirit of daring so early in the game. Risk, and perhaps peril, would come soon enough. So he decided to walk along the shore and float the boat through with a rope.
The thing looked a good deal easier than it turned out to be. Half-way through,, at the narrowest point and most abrupt curve, Pepe misunderstood directions and pulled hard on the bow-rope, when he should have let it slack.
The boat swung in, nearly smashing Ken against the bank, and the sweeping current began to swell dangerously near the gunwale.
" Let go! Let go!" yelled Ken. " George, make him let go!"
But George, who was trying to get the rope out of Pepe's muscular hands, suddenly made a dive for his rifle.
" Deer! deer!" he cried, hurriedly throwing a shell into the chamber. He shot downstream, and Ken, looking that way, saw severa l deer under the firs on a rocky flat. George shot three more times, and the bullets went " spinging" into the trees. The deer bounded out of sight.
When Ken turned again, water was roaring into the boat. He was being pressed harder into the bank, and he saw disaster ahead.
" Loosen the rope--tell him, George," yelled Ken.
Pepe only pulled the harder.
" Quick, or we're ruined," cried Ken.
George shouted in Spanish, and Pepe promptly dropped the rope in the water. That was the worst thing he could have done.
" Grab the rope!" ordered Ken, wildly. " Grab the bow! Don't let it swing out! Hal
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