Once or twice he floundered furiously as the stream swept his feet from under him, and there were times when it seemed to require all his strength to prevent the canoe from being rolled over in the white rush of water that poured across some slippery ledge; but he slowly plodded on, and, though she did not know why, she was glad that he did so.

It was, she was conscious, not altogether because he was executing her command.
At length she joined him where the river flowed deep and smooth beneath the pines again; and, when she had taken her place and he dipped the paddle, she turned to him.
"How did you get the canoe down to the water?
The rock is very steep." "I'm not quite sure," answered Weston.

"I think I let it slide.
Anyway, I shoved it over the edge.

It went down too quickly for me to remember exactly what it did.

I'm afraid there are a few rather big scratches on it." "But how did you get down ?" The man smiled dryly.
"I believe I slid with it." It occurred to Ida, who was commencing to feel a little ashamed of having exerted her authority in such a manner, that she could afford to be generous.
"I'm sorry I put you to so much trouble," she said.