Chapter XI: Down the Soo Rapids

"Alabama! here we rest!" cried George, as they kept booming along up the strong current of the river, until a spot was reached just below the foot of the rapids.

Not many steamers stop at the Soo, save those which run in connection with the tourist travel, between Mackinac and the rapids city. But there is a constant procession of steamers, and whaleback grain barges going in both directions, day and night, all during some seven months of the year. The tonnage of the government canal through which these boats pass around the rapids far exceeds that of the Suez Canal for the entire twelve months.

After finding a responsible party in whose charge the three brave little boats could be left, the cruisers proceeded to take in the sights.

Of course the rapids came first, and they viewed these from every angle. Jack was also deeply interested in the government fish hatchery on the little island; and watched with an envious eye the various pools in which scores of enormous speckled trout, weighing upward of seven pounds, were kept.

"Wait till we get to the Agawa," he said, shaking his head with determination. "I want to find out how some of those whoppers feel at the end of a line."

Nick had made for a clothing emporium, where he fitted himself out in some new clothes. Of course he did not explain just why this was necessary; but judging from the suspicious looks cast upon him every time he came near the clerk, the latter could give a shrewd guess concerning the truth.

Jack was still watching some of those giant trout jump out of the water in the pool when he dangled a long blade of blue grass so as to make the feathery end touch the surface like a fly, when George joined him; for they had settled upon the hatchery as a sort of rendezvous where they could come together, so as to take the thrilling ride down the rapids in a big Indian canoe.

"All off, Jack!" said George, trying to look sober; though there was a merry twinkle in his black eyes that belied the solemn cast of his face.

"What do you mean?" asked the other. "Anything more happened to that fellow Buster? Or perhaps it's Josh who's bent on halting our expedition now, with some caper. Go on, tell me."

"Oh! you're away off," grinned George. "I only meant to inform you that they're gone on ahead of us."

"I suppose you mean the _Mermaid_," Jack remarked.

"That's right," George responded, promptly. "Left here this very morning for a cruise through the Big Lake. Went through the canal about breakfast time. Seems as if we're just bound to keep tagging at their heels, don't it, Jack? I suppose we'll hear a howl from Buster now, because he is cheated out of seeing that fat Miss Sallie again."

"Buster has enough to think of in other directions, I suspect," smiled Jack.

"Well, I should guess so," added the other. "Imagine, if you please, Nick trying to call on any young lady at present. She'd be apt to have a swooning spell. For a time Buster will have to cut out all thoughts of girls' society. He can thank his lucky stars that his chums allow him to hang around."

"Have you had any lunch?" asked Jack.

"I think there's the rest of the bunch coming along the stone walk by the canal, right now. Perhaps we'd better postpone our little ride down the rapids until we get a bite. Buster will be starved."

"There he is dogging the footsteps of the rest," remarked Jack. "Herb is being cruel to the poor old chap. He won't let him join them. I guess he's suffered about enough by now, and we'll have to let up on it."

"Sure we will," agreed impulsive George. "Anyhow, we wouldn't have the nerve to make Buster take a canoe by himself, and shoot the rapids. Let's start out and join them. Perhaps Buster had discovered a good feed place, in his wanderings about the town."

"Ten to one he's noticed a dozen; and perhaps had a few bites before now," and Jack led the way across the little bridge connecting the island where the hatchery was situated, with the main shore.

Nick gladly admitted that he had marked a promising restaurant during his foraging expedition in search of the suit of clothes, which he had taken to the boat and donned.

"It ain't a tony place, fellows," he argued; "but considering the circumstances, er--I thought we wouldn't care for style."

"Why, no, not just at present, Buster;" George said. "You've got a level head for once. We're going to forgive you now, and restore you to good standing, on condition that you never, never again try to stock the camp with a menagerie of strange animals."

Nick promptly held up his right hand.

"I give you my word, boys, and thank you. Please overlook any slight association between myself and our recent invasion of Canada. And now come along. I tell you I feel as if I could clean out all the restaurants in the Soo. I only took a light breakfast you know, because of low spirits."

Josh held up both hands in despair, though he said not a word. There are times when silence is much more suggestive than any flow of language; and every one understood.

An hour or so later, before half-past two, they were on the little beach, talking with a couple of wiry-looking men, who claimed to be sons of the famous old guide of the rapids, John Boucher, who died a few years ago, after having carried thousands and thousands of summer tourists in his canoe through those swirling rapids, without ever a disaster.

Then the entire bunch of six boys took their places in the big and staunch canoe, with a wielder of the paddle at either end. Jack happened to occupy a position near the man in the stern, whose post is always the more important, since he guides the destinies of the swiftly running craft, while the one in the bow fends off from impending rocks.

Jack had taken this position more to observe how the experience affected his chums than for any other reason. He certainly never once dreamed that there might be a Providence in such a small thing as his choice of position.

Then began the first stage of the run, with the two Indians pushing the laden craft upstream by means of stout poles. They kept close to the shore, finding a way around the numerous rocks, and other obstacles, where the water boiled madly; and by slow degrees approached the railway bridge, under which the start is generally made.

"Ain't this simply glorious?" demanded Herb, as they found themselves surrounded by the churning waters, and gradually leaving the shore farther away.

"Wait!" said George, "if you think this is fine, what will you have to say when we get to running the rapids in fact? I've been through some smaller than these, and can guess how it feels."

"My! I'd like to keep doing it all day!" remarked Nick, feeling something like himself again, since he had been restored to favor once more.

"Well, at the rate of fifty per, your bank account would soon collapse. Besides, they say that the excitement is bad on fat people, so that they lose weight right along," George observed.

"You're joshing me, I know, George," declared the other. "If I believed you, I'd be tempted to stay over here while you fellows went on, and keep going all day, so I could cut off, say about thirty pounds or so. No, I wouldn't either; I forgot!"

"Yes, I should think you did forget Sallie," jeered Herb. "If you got out of her class she'd never forgive you, Buster. Besides, perhaps she wouldn't even _see_ you if you wasted away to a shadow. Better leave well enough alone, and enjoy the good things of life."

"Here we go now; they're heading straight out on to the river!" cried Josh, as he nervously clutched the side of the big canoe near him; for they were seated two and two, with Jack just behind and George in front, as the boat narrowed.

The Indian guides were indeed pushing strenuously now, and when the water deepened both of them dropped their poles in the bottom of the canoe, to seize upon stout paddles and wield them furiously.

It was intended to reach a certain point in the river before turning the prow of the craft down toward the head of the rapids.

Long familiarity, every day in the week during the season, and many times a day, had made every rock and swirl known to these men. But although they knew the main channel like a book, seldom did any crew dare venture as close to the terrible jaws of the whirlpool as the veteran guide of the rapids, Old John Boucher, had always made it a practice of taking his parties.

Jack had looked several times at the man in the stern. Somehow, he did not wholly like his appearance. There was something about him to signify that he must have recently arisen from a sick bed. Perhaps, tempted by an influx of tourists, and the demand for experienced guides to take them through the rapids, he had come back to work a bit too soon!

"He doesn't seem as strong as the others," Jack was thinking, even as he turned his head from time to time as if to see what lay behind, while they were pushing up the sturdy current. "I can hear him pant as if short of breath. Goodness! I hope now nothing is going to happen to him while we're spinning along down through these old rapids. They say that whirlpool would swallow up anything; and that Old John was the only man whoever went into it, and came out alive. Whew!"

But Jack did not whisper these fears to his comrades. It was too late to change steersman now; and why spoil all their pleasure?

After all, no doubt there was not so much strength needed once they began to move swiftly along with the current, going half a mile in a couple of minutes, they had been told, though Jack doubted the accuracy of that statement at first.

Apparently the guides had overshot the mark at which they aimed; for as the canoe was turned, in the shadow of the bridge, Jack saw that the man in the bow glanced apprehensively over his shoulder while he knelt there, and immediately began to paddle furiously, as though trying to bring the boat back a little toward the American shore.

Had they gone too far, and were they speeding down in the track taken by the one daring prince of guides--a course that would actually skirt the verge of that whirlpool, of which such terrible things were said?

Jack shut his teeth hard at the thought. Then he gave himself up to the keen enjoyment of that glorious ride, when the canoe was seized upon as by invisible hands, and borne along at lightning speed.

Looking at the water alongside, foam-specked as it was, one could not believe the boat was moving at all, because both kept company. But all that was needed was for the voyager to raise his eyes, and send a look toward the shore, when he must realize the tremendous rapidity with which his frail craft was being carried along.

Things just seemed to fairly flit past, as though they were aboard a fast railway train. The boys were evidently enjoying the novel experience to the full, for their heads were constantly turning from side to side, and all seemed to be talking at once.

Jack was nervously looking ahead and on the left, for he knew they must now be approaching the whirlpool, where the eddying waters went furiously round and round and the center seemed to be a deep hole, like the dent a gigantic top would make in the mud.

Yes, there it was beyond, and they were speeding down at a pace that made one dizzy to notice it. He could feel that both Indian guides were paddling desperately _away from the left_, as though fearing that they were too close to the verge of that death chasm!

What if a paddle chanced to break right then and there? They carried spare ones fortunately--Jack had noted that; but all the same he hoped nothing of the sort would come about.

Hardly had this chilly idea flashed into Jack's mind than he heard what seemed to be a groan close to his ear. At the same time he felt the boat quiver in a suspicious manner. Turning instantly the boy was horrified to see that the Indian guide in the rear had crumpled in his place, with his head fallen forward, and seemed to be gasping for breath.

He had collapsed just at the most dreadful moment, when the canoe was swooping down close to the edge of the whirlpool!