And then there came droning upon his ears a break in the
stillness, and as he listened, the shores closed slowly in,
narrowing the channel until he saw giant masses of gray rock
replacing the thick verdure of balsam, spruce, and cedar. The
moaning grew louder, and the rocks climbed skyward until they hung
in great cliffs. There could be but one meaning to this sudden
change. They were close to LE SAINT-ESPRIT RAPIDE--the Holy Ghost
Rapids. Carrigan was astonished. That day at noon he had believed
the Holy Ghost to be twenty or thirty miles below him. Now they
were at its mouth, and he saw that Bateese and Jeanne Marie-Anne
Boulain were quietly and unexcitedly preparing to run that vicious
stretch of water. Unconsciously he gripped the gunwales of the
canoe with both hands as the sound of the rapids grew into low and
sullen thunder. In the moonlight ahead he could see the rock walls
closing in until the channel was crushed between two precipitous
ramparts, and the moon and stars, sending their glow between those
walls, lighted up a frothing path of water that made Carrigan hold
his breath. He would have portaged this place even in broad day.
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