Having moonlight, we had intended to travel till late. But about ten
o'clock, the boat beginning to go with great speed, H., who was
steering, called to Max:

"Don't row so fast; we may run against something."

"I'm hardly pulling at all."

"Then we're in what she called the rapids!"

The stream seemed indeed to slope downward, and in a minute a dark line
was visible ahead. Max tried to turn, but could not, and in a second
more we dashed against this immense raft, only saved from breaking up by
the men's quickness. We got out upon it and ate supper. Then, as the
boat was leaking and the current swinging it against the raft, H. and
Max thought it safer to watch all night, but told us to go to sleep. It
was a strange spot to sleep in--a raft in the middle of a boiling
stream, with a wilderness stretching on either side. The moon made
ghostly shadows, and showed H., sitting still as a ghost, in the stern
of the boat, while mingled with the gurgle of the water round the raft
beneath was the boom of cannon in the air, solemnly breaking the silence
of night. It drizzled now and then, and the mosquitos swarmed over us.
My fan and umbrella had been knocked overboard, so I had no weapon
against them. Fatigue, however, overcomes everything, and I contrived to
sleep.

H. roused us at dawn. Reeney found lightwood enough on the raft to make
a good fire for coffee, which never tasted better. Then all hands
assisted in unloading; a rope was fastened to the boat, Max got in, H.
held the rope on the raft, and, by much pulling and pushing, it was