They struck southward, and the Englishmen heard the boom of the rapids deepen till they came to the edge of the river at Clark's observation point. There was a strong easterly wind, and it caught at the snowy crests of the bigger waves, spinning them out like silver manes of leaping horses. These flashed in the sunlight, till, over the central ridge of water, the air was full of a fine, misty spray that hung palpitating and luminous. Here was a torrential life--born of the endless and icy leagues of Lake Superior. The two strangers stared fascinated, and as Clark watched them he perceived that once more the ageless voice of the rapids was speaking to human ears, just as it had spoken to his own so many times--and years before. He waited patiently, while the river lifted its elemental message, and saw the color rise in English cheeks and the cold, blue English eyes begin to sparkle again. What were the drab records of Birch's ledgers, or even the monumental pile of nearby buildings, compared to this impetuous slogan? He stood silently, plunged in the psychology of the moment. "How much power--total I mean?" said Ardswell presently, pointing to the ripping flood. "Two hundred and forty thousand horsepower, at a minimum." "By George!" Silence fell again, till Weatherby, shaking the spray from his rough tweed coat, got up a little stiffly. "I begin to understand a little better now," he said slowly with an eloquent glance. The car was waiting for them by the little lock--and here at the block house the visitors displayed marked animation, Clark told them the story very simply as they rolled off up the hill for lunch. "There's one man, the chief engineer, Belding--you met him at the head gates--that I would like to be remembered should we do business," he concluded very thoughtfully. "Belding was my first employee. I picked him up in St. Marys and he has stuck to it nobly. I probably gave him far too much to do, but he never squealed; and there are other reasons." Weatherby looked up. "That's the big, fair haired chap we saw go off in the canoe?" "Yes." "Well," put in Ardswell tersely, "it will probably all depend on yourself." XXIV.--DESTINY Up in the big bay that lies next the head of the rapids, Belding was drifting aimlessly. He was still obsessed with a sense of the hideous uselessness of effort, and wanted to be alone. At one time Elsie used to be here in the bow of the canoe, but now it seemed that Elsie had little thought for him. And yet he could have sworn that, two years ago, she loved him.