He could hear it gurgling and playing under the end of the scow.

And with that sound there was another and more indescribable thing, the tremble of it, the pulse of it, the thrill of it in the impenetrable gloom, the life of it as it swept on in a slow and mighty flood between its wilderness walls.

Kent had always said, "You can hear the river's heart beat--if you know how to listen for it." And he heard it now.

He felt it.

The rain could not beat it out, nor could the splash of the water he was throwing overboard drown it, and the darkness could not hide it from the vision that was burning like a living coal within him.