It was a new stream to Challoner, fed by the large lake above, and guarding himself against the treachery of waterfall and rapid he kept a keen lookout ahead.

For a matter of half an hour the water had been growing steadily swifter, and Challoner was satisfied that before very long he would be compelled to make a portage.

A little later he heard ahead of him the low and steady murmur which told him he was approaching a danger zone.
As he shot around the next bend, hugging fairly close to shore, he saw, four or five hundred yards below him, a rock-frothed and boiling maelstrom of water.
Swiftly his eyes measured the situation.

The rapids ran between an almost precipitous shore on one side and a deep forest on the other.

He saw at a glance that it was the forest side over which he must make the portage, and this was the shore opposite him and farthest away.
Swinging his canoe at a 45-degree angle he put all the strength of body and arms into the sweep of his paddle.