CHAPTER II

VERMILION SHOWS HIS HAND

Down, down through the Chute raced the heavily loaded scow, seeming
fairly to leap from wave to wave in a series of tremendous shocks, as
the flat bottom rose high in the fore and crashed onto the crest of the
next wave, sending a spume of stinging spray high into the air.
White-water curled over the gunwale and sloshed about in the bottom.
The air was chill, and wet--like the dead air of a rock-cavern.

Chloe Elliston knew one moment of swift fear. And then, the mighty
roar of the waters; the mad plunging of the scow between the towering
walls of rock; the set, tense face of Vermilion as he stared into the
gloom; the laboured breathing of the scowmen as they strained at the
sweeps, veering the scow to the right, or to the left, as the rod of
the pilot indicated; the splendid battle of it; the wild exhilaration
of fighting death on death's own stamping ground flung all thought of
fear aside, and in the girl's heart surged the wild, fierce joy of
living, with life itself at stake.

For just an instant Chloe's glance rested upon her companions; Big Lena
sat scowling murderously at Vermilion's broad back. Harriet Penny had
fainted and lay with the back of her head awash in the shallow bilge
water. A strange _alter ego_--elemental--primordial--had taken
possession of Chloe. Her eyes glowed, and her heart thrilled at the