skies, but now the river with its darkly-wooded hills was not only
grand but was weirdly beautiful as well.

When we had passed Mabelle Island the hills seemed to close round
us and were covered with tall, pointed evergreens, so dark in
colour as sometimes to seem almost black. Always these have been
beautiful to me, with a mysterious kind of beauty which sends
through me feelings akin to those I had when as a child I dreamed
over the wonderful pictures the Frost King left in the night on the
window panes. The river ahead was too rough to proceed along the
south shore, and the men decided to cross. It was very fearsome
looking. Through a narrow opening in the hills farther up, the
river came pouring from between dark, perpendicular walls of the
evergreen in a white, tossing rapid, widening again to one only
less turbulent. A heavy cloud hung over us, throwing a deeper
shade on the hills and turning the water black save for the white
foam of the rapids, while down the narrow valley came a gale of hot
wind like a blast from a furnace. We turned out into the river,
and all paddled as if for life. The canoe danced among the swells,
but in spite of our best efforts the rapid carried us swiftly down.
It was a wild ride, though we reached the other shore in safety,
and looking up the river I wondered what might be in store for us
beyond that narrow gateway. When we passed it would the beyond
prove as much like Hades as this was suggestive of it? It seemed
as if there we must find ourselves within the mysteries.

After we landed, George turned, and in mildly approving tone said:
"I have seen lots of men who would jump out of the canoe if we
tried to take them where you have been just now."