Bogate shook his head, as if to clear away some mist as tangible as the spray still drenching them.
“Somebody musta pulled a cork,” Larsen commented between coughs.
“D’you see anything up there?” Bogate wanted to know.
“Just a ttsor. It gave us warning of the flood. If it hadn’t been for that, we’d have been caught—”
“And so would we.” Larsen pulled at the sodden collar of his coat. “This is a booby trap to end ’em all. What about the boys downstream?”
“Sent ’em a message,” Soong answered. “Whether they got it in time—” There was no need for him to complete that sentence.
A faint hail came from across the canyon and they sighted a waving arm. Bogate carefully levered himself to his feet.
“Hooooah!” His bull roar rang out.
There was a welcome answer, three of them. But there was no way to cross the turbulent river and join forces. So they began to travel back toward the forks in two parties,