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 This is more like it. He made the comment to no one in particular as he
leaned against the bow and watched the canyon slide by. The layered sandstone
and granite glistened in the morning sun. Wild lizards and other native
inhabitants scrambled in and out of clefts in the rock, pausing occasionally
to peer from uncomprehending eyes at the boat drifting past below. Others sped
out of the craft s path, then- subaqueous activities temporarily disrupted.
 A definite improvement. Having jumped over the side to cool himself, Squill
had climbed back aboard over the low stem and now lay on his back on the front
deck, soaking up the sun. Gragelouth handled the tiller while Neena hung over
the side, trailing a paw in the water.
 To be back on a river. She let out a low, whistling sigh.   Tis more than I
could ve
 oped for.
 I am glad you are pleased.
She turned to look at the merchant.  Don t you ever lighten up, guv? You
should try an be more like me bro an I.
 No one can be  like an otter except another otter, Gragelouth declaimed
firmly.
 Your kind possesses the most extraordinary facility for delighting even in
unpleasant circumstances.
 Maybe so, pinch-face, but even you  ave to admit that our present
circumstances are
 ardly anythin but unpleasant.
 I must confess that I am increasingly sanguine about our current situation.
 Crikes, don t overdo your glee. You might strain somethin .
 I miss the old wagon, Gragelouth continued,  but one must be prepared to
make sacrifices in pursuit of great goals. He nudged the tiller slightly to
port.  I admit that this method of transportation is both cooler and easier on
certain select portions of one s anatomy.
 Bloody well right. She swiped at a surface-swimming fish and missed.  So
chill, and try to enjoy yourself.
It required a conscious effort on his part, but by their fourth day on the
river the ease of travel and promise of more of the same had even the
perpetually dour merchant smiling. The current had increased and the walls of
the canyon grown sheer, but they passed through with impunity.
It was midafternoon when a distant hum in the air pricked Squill s ears. He
was lounging near Buncan, who was taking his turn at the tiller. Gragelouth
and Neena were down in the main cabin, cobbling together a lunch.
 Now there s a sound, the otter murmured, sitting up straight.
 Wot s a sound? Neena emerged from below, carrying a plate of assorted cold
cuts.
 Rapids?
 Probably. Squill helped himself to the food but ate with unaccustomed
gravity.
Not much time had passed before the noise had grown noticeably louder.  Big
rapids, he muttered as he cleaned his whiskers with his tongue. He walked
around the central cabin to stand in the bow, craning forward while sampling
the air with nose and ears.
Moments later he shouted back to Buncan.  Oi, mate! We may be comin up on a
bit o a problem.
 What sort of problem? Buncan yelled up to him.
  Tis the canyon. It seems to disappear just ahead.
Buncan strained to see ahead.  What do you mean,  it seems to disappear ?
  Ard to tell. Abandoning the bow, the otter scampered monkeylike up the
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mast and clung to the top, shading his eyes with one paw as he stared forward.
Buncan squinted up at him.
 See anything?
 Not bloomin much. That s the problem.
Gragelouth s smile had vanished.  I do not like this.
 Didn t the duckbill tell us this river were safe? Neena murmured.
 He s never been down this far, Buncan reminded her.  He told us that, too.
He said there might be rapids. The roar had intensified, progressing from
loud to deafening.
 Sounds like more than rapids to me. He called to their lookout.  Anything
yet, Squill?
The otter was silent, looking like a large brown comma astride the punctuation
of the mast. A moment later he let out a sharp bark and slid down to rejoin
them. His eyes were alert as he confronted his tall human friend.
 Ain t no rapids to worry about.
 That is a relief. Gragelouth sighed.
  Tis a waterfall. A bloody big one, near as I can tell.
The merchant blinked doe eyes and then turned away to commence a desperate
study of the passing banks. By this time the rock walls they were traveling
between verged on the perpendicular.
 There is no place to land here. No place at all! His thick claws dug into
the wood of the gunwale.  We are going to go over.
 Just keep calm, everybody, said Neena.  Me bro ,  e s been known to
exaggerate.
Now Bunkoo, do you recall the tale o when Mudge an Jon-Tom  ad to  andle a
situation like this?
Buncan thought back to the stories his father had told him. He nodded eagerly
as the one she was alluding to leaped to mind.  The Sloomaz-ayor-le-Weentli!
The double river.
 Righty-ho. An remember  ow they escaped it?
He nodded vigorously.  Gragelouth, take the tiller. My friends and I have
magic to make. Passing control of the boat to the merchant, who was becoming
progressively more unglued with each passing moment, Buncan dashed below and
returned seconds later with his duar.
 The Sloomaz interdicted four waterfalls at the Earth s Throat, he reminded
his companions confidently.  Surely we can spellsing our way down one. Ahead
of the boat the now thunderous roaring had given birth to a dense, rising
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