Now they needed the paddles. The broad, deep stream grew treacherous, and sharp stone pinnacles began to appear, some with heavy drifts of timber, washed down by the water, piled up against them. On either side the stone sides of the banks rose higher, banded umber and fawn, worn smooth by the rushing torrents. The Swallow’s prow bobbed up and down as she sped between the steep walls of the gorge. There was little the travelers could do to arrest their furious progress. Dann and Dippler sat for’ard, plying their paddles this way and that to get the Swallow around the pinnacles, while Song consulted the rhyme Friar Butty had given her, speaking it aloud to Burble.

“Then when the sky shows blue and light,

And clear down to the bed you gaze,

Be not deceived by rainbows bright,

Beware tall stones and misted haze.”

Song turned her eyes upward. “We’re no longer in the green tunnel, so there’s the sky showing blue and light. Is the water muddy or clear, Burb?”

“Ah, ’tis fast-runnin’ as y’know, but still the stream’s deep an’ clear, yiss yiss, very clear, I see the bottom deep down.”

“Great seasons, lookit the size o’ those rocks ahead!”

They looked in the direction Dippler was pointing.

Two enormous rock pinnacles, their tops thick with vegetation, reared out of the water farther downstream like primitive sentinels. What lay beyond them was lost in a haze of mist formed by water spray shooting high as the stream divided three ways around the rock bases. The awesome spectacle was enhanced by a breathtakingly beautiful rainbow bridging the gorge.

Suddenly, Song seized her paddle, shouting out above the roaring waters, “Bring her in to the side. Find somewhere we can stop. Quickly!”

Backs bent and paddles digging deep, they fought the headlong current. Tacking and veering, drenched to the skin, the four friends battled to bring the frail vessel toward the high rock wall that formed one bank.

Burble spotted a possible place. “There, see, yiss yiss, there, where the rift is!”

Backing water madly, they checked the Swallow as she ran close to the towering cliff. All Dann could see for a moment was a wraithlike armored mouse, hovering in the mist ahead, his hollow voice blending with the roar of waters.

“The sword, Dann, my sword!”

Leaning dangerously out from the prow, Dann whipped forth the sword and thrust it instinctively into the large crack running up the rock face. Throwing his weight forward against the hilt, Dann pushed hard. The Swallow hovered for a moment, then turned in a fast circle on the dashing waters until Dann found himself facing upstream. The boat had turned completely around. Straining against the mighty pressure, Dann held her firm.

“Song, do something quick! I can’t hold her much longer!”