it, something terribly suggestive of giant hands under the surface,
waiting to pull them down. He knew, without questioning, that
there was more deadly power in that creeping flood than in a dozen
boisterous torrents thundering down from the mountains. In it were the
cumulative waters of a score of those torrents, and in its broad, deep
sweep into the big lake the currents and perils of each were combined
into one great threatening force.

The thoughts that were in Rod's mind betrayed themselves as he looked
at his companions. Mukoki was reloading the canoe. Wabi watched the
flood.

"She's running pretty strong," said the Indian youth dubiously. "What
do you think of it, Muky?"

"Keep close to shore," replied the old warrior, without stopping his
work. "We mak' heem--safe!"

There was a good deal of consolation in Mukoki's words, for both
youths still bore smarting reminders of his caution and good judgment.
In a short time the canoe was safely launched where a small eddy had
worked into the shore, and the three adventurers dug in their paddles.
Mukoki, who held the important position in the stern, kept the bow of
the birch within half a dozen yards of the bank, and to Rod's mind
they slipped up-stream with amazing speed and ease. Now and then one
of the upheavings of the currents would catch the canoe, and from the
way in which it was pitched either to one side or the other Rod easily
imagined what perils the middle of the stream would have held for
them. Quick action on the part of Mukoki and Wabigoon was always
necessary to counteract the effect of these upheavals, and in the bow