Carolyn Keene. White Water Terror

She frowned as Bess caught up with Max a little distance away. She wished that Bess could manage more control over her feelings. It really wasn’t a good idea for her to get so involved so quickly.

Linda stepped forward. “Gosh, I’ve never known a real detective,” she said with a shy smile.

“Well, I don’t know if I count,” Nancy said. “I’m a real detective, all right, but I’m on vacation.”

“Well, I sure hope we won’t need your services,” Ralph said cheerfully.

“Okay, everybody,” Paula called. “Lunch break’s over!”

By the time the rafts were loaded up again, the sun had faded behind a bank of threatening clouds. Mike asked George to trade places with him so he could ride with Tod. Sammy asked Mercedes to trade places with her, probably because she didn’t want to be around Ned and Nancy, so Mercedes sat just ahead of Nancy and Ned, with Tod and Mike in the bow together. Secretly, Nancy was glad that Sammy was on the other raft. And she welcomed the chance to talk to Mercedes. But it was difficult to find out anything from her.

“I don’t know the first thing about the contest,” Mercedes insisted with a nervous glance over her shoulder at Paula. Nancy sensed that Mercedes was afraid of her cousin. “When I heard about the trip, I asked Paula if I could go. That’s all.” She bit her thumbnail. “I thought it would be fun to get out on the river. I’ve never been rafting.”

“Did you see any advertisements for the contest?” Nancy asked in a low voice. “The others can’t remember entering it.” Mercedes shrugged and turned away.

Mercedes was afraid of her cousin. But why?

The afternoon was uneventful. For the first couple of hours, there was as much drifting as paddling, then Nancy began to notice that the water was moving more rapidly. Her raft was following the other one down a deep, shadowy gorge where the water ran even faster, foaming and curling against the rocks as the channel of the river narrowed and twisted. In the distance Nancy could hear a deeper sound, like faraway drums echoing between the walls of the cliffs.

“What’s that?” she asked nervously.

“Dead Man’s Falls,” Paula replied.

“Do you think we can skip that landmark?” Nancy kidded.

Tod laughed. “The name makes it sound worse than it is,” he said. “A couple of guys drowned there last year, but the rafter was at fault. Sloppy handling.”

“You don’t know that, Tod,” Paula said sharply. “Even the best raft-handlers have trouble there in high water, because of the way the rocks line up.”

“Is the water high right now?” Ned asked curiously.

Paula shook her head. “Nope. It’s only a four-foot drop, anyway. These eighteen-foot rafts are big enough to take it easily when the water’s down, the way it is now.”

They came around another bend, and at the far end, the riverbed began to step down in a series of small, rough rapids that tossed the raft against rock after rock. Nancy found herself clinging to the side.

“There’s the falls!” Tod shouted, pointing. Nancy looked. She could see Max’s raft just ahead.

“Okay,” Paula shouted. “This’ll be just like going down a steep sliding board. Once we’re over, the water will suck us down and then force us up again. It’ll be like riding a bucking horse, so hang on. Check your life vests to see that they’re fastened.”

Nancy looked at the other raft. “That idiot!” Nancy gasped, pointing to Bess. “She’s not wearing her life vest!”

“She probably didn’t think it looked pretty enough,” Ned said with a laugh. He sobered quickly. “She’s not a very strong swimmer, is she?”

Nancy shook her head, cinching her own life jacket a little tighter. “Sometimes Bess doesn’t have much sense,” she muttered.

The raft gathered speed as the current dragged it toward the falls. A few yards upstream, Max’s raft seemed to hang up against a rock. Frantically, Max fought the current with his oars, and Ralph tried to push off.

“Uh-oh!” Paula muttered. “That’s real trouble!”

Nancy and the others watched helplessly as the raft broke loose from the rock and was captured by the swirling water. It somersaulted broadside over the lip of the falls, heaving its shrieking passengers to almost certain death in the raging torrent.

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