Prev | Current Page 235 | Next

Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

We carried the raft back to the ledge. It was fairly
light, being made of hide stretched tightly across stringers of
bone, but was exceedingly clumsy. Once Harry fell, and the thing
nearly toppled over into the lake with him on top of it; but I
caught his arm just in time.
Another trip for the oars and spears, and everything was ready.
We launched the raft awkwardly, nearly shipping it beneath; but
finally got it afloat with ourselves aboard. We had fastened the
loose ends of the spear-thongs about our waists.
I think that raft was the craziest thing that ever touched water.
It was a most excellent diver, but was in profound ignorance of
the first principle of the art of floating.
After a quarter of an hour of experimentation we found that by
standing exactly in a certain position, one on each side and
paddling with one hand, it was possible to keep fairly level. If
either of us shifted his foot a fraction of an inch the thing
ducked like a stone.
We finally got out a hundred feet or so and ceased paddling.
Then, exchanging our oars for the spears, we waited.
The surface of the lake was perfectly still, save for a barely
perceptible ripple, caused no doubt by the undercurrent which was
fed by the stream at the opposite side.


Pages:
223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247