Motor Boat Boys on the Great Lakes Part 13

Then began the first stage of the run, with the two Indians pushing the laden craft upstream by means of stout poles. They kept close to the sh.o.r.e, finding a way around the numerous rocks, and other obstacles, where the water boiled madly; and by slow degrees approached the railway bridge, under which the start is generally made.

"Ain't this simply glorious?" demanded Herb, as they found themselves surrounded by the churning waters, and gradually leaving the sh.o.r.e farther away.

"Wait!" said George, "if you think this is fine, what will you have to say when we get to running the rapids in fact? I've been through some smaller than these, and can guess how it feels."

"My! I'd like to keep doing it all day!" remarked Nick, feeling something like himself again, since he had been restored to favor once more.

"Well, at the rate of fifty per, your bank account would soon collapse.

Besides, they say that the excitement is bad on fat people, so that they lose weight right along," George observed.

"You're joshing me, I know, George," declared the other. "If I believed you, I'd be tempted to stay over here while you fellows went on, and keep going all day, so I could cut off, say about thirty pounds or so.

No, I wouldn't either; I forgot!"

"Yes, I should think you did forget Sallie," jeered Herb. "If you got out of her cla.s.s she'd never forgive you, Buster. Besides, perhaps she wouldn't even _see_ you if you wasted away to a shadow. Better leave well enough alone, and enjoy the good things of life."

"Here we go now; they're heading straight out on to the river!" cried Josh, as he nervously clutched the side of the big canoe near him; for they were seated two and two, with Jack just behind and George in front, as the boat narrowed.

The Indian guides were indeed pushing strenuously now, and when the water deepened both of them dropped their poles in the bottom of the canoe, to seize upon stout paddles and wield them furiously.

It was intended to reach a certain point in the river before turning the prow of the craft down toward the head of the rapids.

Long familiarity, every day in the week during the season, and many times a day, had made every rock and swirl known to these men. But although they knew the main channel like a book, seldom did any crew dare venture as close to the terrible jaws of the whirlpool as the veteran guide of the rapids, Old John Boucher, had always made it a practice of taking his parties.

Jack had looked several times at the man in the stern. Somehow, he did not wholly like his appearance. There was something about him to signify that he must have recently arisen from a sick bed. Perhaps, tempted by an influx of tourists, and the demand for experienced guides to take them through the rapids, he had come back to work a bit too soon!

"He doesn't seem as strong as the others," Jack was thinking, even as he turned his head from time to time as if to see what lay behind, while they were pushing up the st.u.r.dy current. "I can hear him pant as if short of breath. Goodness! I hope now nothing is going to happen to him while we're spinning along down through these old rapids. They say that whirlpool would swallow up anything; and that Old John was the only man whoever went into it, and came out alive. Whew!"

But Jack did not whisper these fears to his comrades. It was too late to change steersman now; and why spoil all their pleasure?

After all, no doubt there was not so much strength needed once they began to move swiftly along with the current, going half a mile in a couple of minutes, they had been told, though Jack doubted the accuracy of that statement at first.

Apparently the guides had overshot the mark at which they aimed; for as the canoe was turned, in the shadow of the bridge, Jack saw that the man in the bow glanced apprehensively over his shoulder while he knelt there, and immediately began to paddle furiously, as though trying to bring the boat back a little toward the American sh.o.r.e.

Had they gone too far, and were they speeding down in the track taken by the one daring prince of guides--a course that would actually skirt the verge of that whirlpool, of which such terrible things were said?

Jack shut his teeth hard at the thought. Then he gave himself up to the keen enjoyment of that glorious ride, when the canoe was seized upon as by invisible hands, and borne along at lightning speed.

Looking at the water alongside, foam-specked as it was, one could not believe the boat was moving at all, because both kept company. But all that was needed was for the voyager to raise his eyes, and send a look toward the sh.o.r.e, when he must realize the tremendous rapidity with which his frail craft was being carried along.

Things just seemed to fairly flit past, as though they were aboard a fast railway train. The boys were evidently enjoying the novel experience to the full, for their heads were constantly turning from side to side, and all seemed to be talking at once.

Jack was nervously looking ahead and on the left, for he knew they must now be approaching the whirlpool, where the eddying waters went furiously round and round and the center seemed to be a deep hole, like the dent a gigantic top would make in the mud.

Yes, there it was beyond, and they were speeding down at a pace that made one dizzy to notice it. He could feel that both Indian guides were paddling desperately _away from the left_, as though fearing that they were too close to the verge of that death chasm!

What if a paddle chanced to break right then and there? They carried spare ones fortunately--Jack had noted that; but all the same he hoped nothing of the sort would come about.

Hardly had this chilly idea flashed into Jack's mind than he heard what seemed to be a groan close to his ear. At the same time he felt the boat quiver in a suspicious manner. Turning instantly the boy was horrified to see that the Indian guide in the rear had crumpled in his place, with his head fallen forward, and seemed to be gasping for breath.

He had collapsed just at the most dreadful moment, when the canoe was swooping down close to the edge of the whirlpool!

CHAPTER XII

WINNING AN INDIAN'S ADMIRATION

Fortunately for all of them, Jack Stormways was not given to fear. In emergencies he acted from intuition, rather than through thinking things out, no matter however speedily.

There may come times when a second counts for everything. Jack believed such an occasion was now upon them; and he acted instantly.

The man in falling forward had pushed his paddle alongside Jack. It was as plain an invitation to fill his place as could have been given.

Making one swoop the boy s.n.a.t.c.hed up the stout blade, and instantly dipped it over the port side. Desperately he exerted his strength to steer the canoe away from the fatal eddies that sought to draw them still further into the vortex.

The Indian in the bow may have suspected something of what had occurred; but he dared not turn his head now, or take his attention away from the rocks ahead for even one lone second.

As for the five boys, they were all staring at the near-by whirlpool as though actually fascinated by its terrors; and not suspecting how close they were to plunging straight into its grip.

With every atom of his strength did Jack work, dipping as deeply as he could, and striving against the giant power of the mill race on which they were speeding.

The edge of the circling current was horribly close; in fact they seemed to skirt its very border, closer perhaps than even the veteran guide ever carried his cargoes of tourists, when in his prime.

Jack fairly held his breath as the crisis came. He did not know, could not tell whether they would win out or not. It was an experience that would doubtless continue to haunt the lad for a long time. Perhaps he would awaken in the night with a start and a low cry, having dreamed that once again he sat in the canoe with the dark skinned steersman fallen in a faint, and the hungry maw of the whirlpool yawning so very close on their left that one could have tossed a chip directly into it.

"Wow! wasn't that a close shave though, boys?" shouted George, half turning his head to look at his mates; and then following his words with another cry: "Look at Jack, would you? Great governor! what happened?"

And as the others twisted around to look, they were amazed to discover that Jack was wielding that paddle like a veteran, his face as white as chalk, and his eyes staring; but his teeth firmly pressed together, with a look of grim determination on his young face.

Not a word was spoken until they had pa.s.sed the last bristling rock, and spun out below where the foamy water took on a less violent aspect.

Then Bedlam broke loose.

"Sit still, all of you!" cried Jack, as he saw a movement on the part of his chums to get up; "you'll upset the canoe yet, if you try that. Wait till we reach the sh.o.r.e, and you'll know about it. The man has fainted, that's all; and I had to take his place."

"But he was all right when we started, for I looked around and saw him,"

declared Herb.

"That's true," Jack answered. "He keeled over just before we got to the whirlpool, and as he dropped his paddle right beside me, all I had to do was to dip it in, and exert myself a little."

"A little!" echoed George, with thrilling emphasis, "look at the beads of sweat on his forehead, fellows! Jack, honest now, you must have saved all our lives. Ugh! just to think, if the boat had swerved then, where would we be right now?"

They looked at each other, and turned paler than when pa.s.sing through the yeasty waters of the rapids. But Jack tried to make light of it all.

"Oh! shucks!" he laughed, though his voice trembled a bit in spite of his wonderful nerve; "any of you would have done the same thing. Why, there was nothing else to do, to tell the truth."