I bailed out with a grocery box, kept under
the seat for that purpose. It had been growing quite cold, and Emery's
indisposition--or what was really acute indigestion--had weakened him
for the past two days, but he pluckily declined to stop. I was soaked
with my last immersion and chilled with the wind, so concluded there
was no use having him go through the same experience and I ran his
boat while he made a picture. We were both ready to camp then, but
there was no suitable place and we had to push on to the next rapid.
On looking it over we almost gave up our intention of running it. It
was about a fourth of a mile long; a mass of submerged rocks extended
entirely across the river; the entire rapid seemed impossible. We
finally concluded it might be run by shooting up, stern first, on a
sloping rock near the shore, then return as the current recoiled and
ran back, dividing on either side of the rock. The only clear channel
was one about twelve feet wide, between this rock and the shore. A
projecting shore above prevented a direct entrance to this channel.
We threw logs in and watched their action. In each case they paused
when within five or six feet of the top of the slope, then returned
with the current, whirled back to the side and shot through close to
the shore. We planned to go through as close together as possible.
Emery was ready first, I held back in a protecting pool, waiting for
him to get out of the way.
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