Beyond that point the rapids were frothing white, and they could see the first black walls of rock that marked the beginning of the Chute.
"We'll make it," he smiled confidently.

"We'll hit that timbered point close inshore.

I don't see where the launch can make a landing anywhere within a mile of the Chute.

And once ashore we'll make trail about five times as fast they can follow it." Marette's face was no longer pale, but flushed with excitement.

He caught the white gleam of teeth between her parted lips.