hot and heavy, right down the towhead. That was
all right as far as it went, but the towhead warn't
sixty yards long, and the minute I flew by the foot of
it I shot out into the solid white fog, and hadn't no
more idea which way I was going than a dead man.

Thinks I, it won't do to paddle; first I know I'll
run into the bank or a towhead or something; I got
to set still and float, and yet it's mighty fidgety
business to have to hold your hands still at such a
time. I whooped and listened. Away down there
somewheres I hears a small whoop, and up comes
my spirits. I went tearing after it, listening sharp
to hear it again. The next time it come I see I
warn't heading for it, but heading away to the right
of it. And the next time I was heading away to the
left of it--and not gaining on it much either, for I
was flying around, this way and that and t'other,
but it was going straight ahead all the time.

I did wish the fool would think to beat a tin pan,
and beat it all the time, but he never did, and it
was the still places between the whoops that was
making the trouble for me. Well, I fought along,
and directly I hears the whoop behind me. I was
tangled good now. That was somebody else's
whoop, or else I was turned around.

I throwed the paddle down. I heard the whoop
again; it was behind me yet, but in a different place;
it kept coming, and kept changing its place, and I
kept answering, till by and by it was in front of me
again, and I knowed the current had swung the
canoe's head down-stream, and I was all right if
that was Jim and not some other raftsman hollering.

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