The next day, however, was travel of the kind that he liked. Two small tributaries of the Kanuti, mere mountain streams, flowed in and raised the water to a height where it was possible to shoot the rapids instead of wading them, carrying the canoes. Ever since the canoe slide on the Cantwell, Roger had felt quite proud of his powers as a canoeist, and this pride was considerably heightened as he found how able he was to handle the boat on this new stream. It was different, too, for while the first set of rapids had been a torrent foaming between jagged upstanding crags of rock, this was a swift river running over heaps of boulders, and the Indian had to judge by the swirl of the water just what was below. A broad valley, through which the river wound in a very crooked way, afforded a quick day's journey, but bad rapids were then met with, which taxed the resources of the party to the utmost, and proved all in vain to prevent the boats from being swamped. Twice the boats went over, once the leading boat to Roger's great chagrin, and the second time the second boat, which in consequence made the boy feel much better. No serious harm resulted as the supplies were always packed in watertight bags. There was a fall of eight hundred feet in the thirty miles of these rapids, so that, as Magee said, "it was a case of whistling for brakes all the time." The mosquitoes became very bad in the lower reaches of the river, the only redeeming feature of which part of the trip was the immense abundance of ducks and geese, which, being shot, were a welcome and toothsome addition to the larder. With this to aid the quiet progress, the party soon arrived at Arctic City, at the junction of the Kanuti and Koyukuk rivers, and thence one day's paddling up the latter broad stream brought them to Bergman. This is a central trading post, and there again they secured supplies for the last stage of the journey. As it was already June 23d, and the hardest stretch was yet to come, little time was lost at Bergman, and three days later the voyagers crossed the Arctic Circle and touched at Bettles, at the junction of the Koyukuk and John (or Totsenbet) rivers. There Roger saw the last white face he would see, other than the members of the party, until he had crossed the great Arctic Divide, made his bow to the not-distant North Pole, reached the frozen ocean, and returned to civilization. But when they came to the John River and Roger saw the force of the waters of the stream, and learned that there was one hundred and forty-five miles of up-stream work against that current, he realized that all his previous experience of labor had been child's play compared to it. "That's going to be a pretty stiff pull, Mr. Rivers, isn't it?" said Roger to the geologist, as he was standing by the edge of the river just as the boats were being launched. "It would be, Doughty," was the answer, "that is, if it wasn't for the milking."