The figure of the tall frontiersman
could be plainly seen as he labored at the helm.
The raft disappeared round a bend, and as it did so Joe saw a white
scarf waved by Nell.
Bill worked the clumsy craft over toward the right shore where the
current was more rapid. He pushed with all his strength, and when
the oar had reached its widest sweep, he lifted it and ran back
across the raft for another push. Joe scanned the river ahead. He
saw no rapids; only rougher water whirling over some rocks. They
were where the channel narrowed and ran close to the right-hand
bank. Under a willow-flanked ledge was a sand-bar. To Joe there
seemed nothing hazardous in drifting through this pass.
"Bad place ahead," said Bill, observing Joe's survey of the river.
"It doesn't look so," replied Joe.
"A raft ain't a boat. We could pole a boat. You has to hev water to
float logs, an' the river's run out considerable. I'm only afeerd
fer the horses. If we hit or drag, they might plunge around a bit."
When the raft passed into the head of the bend it struck the rocks
several times, but finally gained the channel safely, and everything
seemed propitious for an easy passage.
But, greatly to Bill's surprise, the wide craft was caught directly
in the channel, and swung round so that the steering-oar pointed
toward the opposite shore.
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