That night Job had a dream of them.
He believed in dreams a little and it troubled him. He thought we
were running in rapids which were very difficult, and becoming
entrapped in the currents were carried over the brink of a fall.
In the morning he told his dream, and the others were warned of
danger ahead. My canoe was to lead the way with George in the bow
and Job in the stern, while Joe and Gilbert were to follow close
behind. When we left our camp an extra paddle was placed within
easy reach of each canoe man so that should one snap at a critical
moment another could instantly replace it.
This was a new attitude towards the work ahead and as we paddled
slowly in the direction of the outlet where the hills drew
together, as if making ready to surround and imprison us, my mind
was full of vague imaginings concerning the river.
Far beyond my wildest thought, however, was the reality.
Immediately at the outlet the canoes were caught by the swift
current and for five days we were carried down through almost
continuous rapids. There were long stretches of miles where the
slope of the river bed was a steep gradient and I held my breath as
the canoe shot down at toboggan pace.
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