The Big Sandy was now a raging torrent, sixty feet in depth, and, in many places, above the tops of the tall trees which grew along its margin.

In some deep and narrow gorges, where the steep banks shut down upon the stream, these trees had been undermined at the roots, and, falling inward, had locked their arms together, forming a net-work that well-nigh prevented the passage of the small skiff and its two navigators.

Where a small skiff could scarcely pass, could they run a large steamboat loaded with provisions?
"Other men might ask that question, but not the backwoods boy who had learned navigation on the waters of the Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal.

He pushed to the mouth of the river, and there took possession of the _Sandy Valley_, a small steamer in the quartermaster's service.

Loading her with supplies, he set about starting up the river, but the captain of the boat declared the thing was impossible.