Two of us, armed with poles, were to do the steering. There was one spot
in the river of which we were rather apprehensive. That was a bit of
shallow, swift water three miles from camp. A line of rocks jutted up from
the river, forming a natural dam which was broken only at the eastern end.
The water swirled madly through this opening, and veering off a huge rock
which lay directly in front of the gap turned sharply westward. As we
neared this dam the river became deeper and deeper, until finally we could
no longer reach bottom with the poles, and could not properly steer the
boat. For some time we drifted helplessly round and round in the still
water above the dam. Then suddenly the current caught us and we swept like
a shot for the opening. The gap was quite wide, and had we only thought to
provide ourselves with oars we could have steered the raft clear of the
rocks below, but we were entirely at the mercy of the current, and with a
terrific crash we were hurled head on against the boulder.
Just what happened then I can not say. When I undertook to record the
incident in the chronicles of the S. S. I. E. E. of W. C. I., I found
there were five entirely different versions of the affair besides my own.
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