The Wild Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    They crossed the lake in good humor, taking turns rowing and bailing. Two of them would row at a time, sitting side by side on the rough plank seat, while the other member of their small team tried to prevent too much water from leaking into the boat. Their feet were quickly awash, but constant bailing kept the water down to an acceptable level. Jack had built several thick struts across the boat widthwise, and their equipment was propped on these, held up out of the water he’d known they wouldinevitably be taking on. Though it was the first boat he had ever built, he was an experienced sailor, and he was confident that theirs was the best craft currently crossing the waters of Lake Lindeman.
    They’d left the horses behind, exchanging them for tools and a good helping of food kept by the boatbuilders camped along the lakeside. Jack had been sorry to see the horses go. They were strong beasts, and he had a feeling that their strength would be missed by the three men.
    The lake’s surface shimmered with thin ice.
    â€œWe’re breaking through easily,” Merritt said. The ice barely whispered along the boat’s rough hull.
    â€œFor now,” Jack said. He pulled at his oar, enjoying the rhythmic movement and the warm strain on his muscles. “Don’t forget, many others have already come this way.”
    â€œWe’re doing well,” Jim said. He was bailing, his clothes soaked and his brow dripping sweat. Jack thought he had never seen the schoolteacher so happy.
    â€œAs I said,” Jack said, “for now. But there’s hard waters ahead, friends.”
    â€œRapids,” Merritt said. “We heard about them. We’ll need to portage, then—”
    â€œNo,” Jack said. “It’ll take too long, and it’s too dangerous. High cliffs, uncharted land. You know the lay of the land ahead of us? You’ve studied it?”
    The two men glanced at each other; then Merritt shrugged.
    Jack sighed. “The White Horse Rapids,” he said. “Very rough, very dangerous. A lot of people have tried to shoot them. Some disappear, some wash up dead. Lots turn back.”
    â€œThere’s no turning back here,” Merritt said, and Jack was impressed by his confidence.
    â€œBut you’ve built us a good boat?” Jim asked. “You know the water?”
    Jack examined the Yukon Belle . Water lapped around his feet, and with Jim paused in his bailing while they talked, the level was rising quickly. The bow was sharp, the stern square, but the draft was deeper than he would have liked. The rough boards nailed and tied together to form the hull were already distorting as the timber took on water.
    â€œYes, she’s a good boat,” he said. And he rowed in silence for a while, silently thinking ahead to the dangers they faced.
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    The thundering water formed a violently foaming, snaking ridge along the base of the canyon. It was monstrous. The ground shook, the air was heavy with the roar, and spray cooled Jack’s skin like the touch of ghostly fingers. He was thrilled to his primal core, and terrified as well, a blend ofsensations that he had experienced before and would likely know again. His soul cried in exultation at the adventure ahead. One day, he knew, such yearning could be the death of him.
    There were other people on the riverbank, some in groups, several more alone. They watched the grand and fearsome river, and Jack wondered how long they had been standing here, men and women rooted to the spot by the terror of what lay before them. He had the strange image of them being frozen, slowly turning to stone as the waters crashed by without any consideration of the passage of time. One day, perhaps, the river would shift its course enough to start abrading these statues of humanity, if the spray did not wear them away beforehand. And here they stood now, testament to both fear and determination: They could not go forward and