They lurched through on the top of a curling wave, and she saw the mouth of the river behind the rock.

The current rose in crested ridges where it met the wind, but the ridges were smaller than the waves on the lake and gradually sank to splashing ripples as the canoe ran up stream between dark walls of forest.

The trees did not cut off the wind, which followed the channel, and by and by Thirlwell looked at Agatha.
"We have made a good run, but it isn't often one gets a fair wind like this, and poling against the stream is slow work.

Still we'll stop and pitch camp when you like." "Shall we save a day for our prospecting if we go on until dark ?" "Yes," said Thirlwell, "we'll certainly gain a day." Agatha was cold and wet and cramped.

She longed to stop, but it was important to save time and she wanted Thirlwell to see that she had pluck.
"Then go on as far as you can," she replied.
She had half expected the _Metis_ to grumble, but they did not.