Then the froth that leapt about it swept astern, and they were going on again, faster than ever, and apparently down a declivity, the spray beating upon them and the canoe swinging her bows out of a frothing confusion.

Seaforth heard a cry behind him, but could attach no meaning to it, and whirled his paddle mechanically, until the craft appeared to lurch out from under him, and fall bodily with a great splashing.

Twice, it seemed to him, she swung round a great black pool, and then they were driving forward again a trifle more smoothly, while here and there a stunted pine that clung to the rocks came flitting back to them.

He felt Okanagan's paddle in his shoulder, and glanced round a moment.

There was a green strip behind them that seemed to roll itself together and fall roaring into the pool, but a wisp of mist that blotted out everything drifted across his eyes.
Seaforth retained no very clear impression of the remainder of that day's journey, but it was late in the afternoon when the walls of rock fell back a little on either hand, and it seemed to him that they lay motionless in the bottom of a great pit while the hills slowly rolled away behind them.