Perhaps the reason lies in the fact that the native woodsman knows nature as she really is:  living ever close to her he knows her power over his life.  Perhaps there is a religious side to the matter, too.  In the solitudes the religious instincts receive an impulse that is impossible to those who know only the works of man.  The religion that this gives is true and deep, and the eye instinctively lifts in reverence to the manifestations of divine might.

When the swirling waters carried the canoe down into the gorge of the Yuga both Ben and Beatrice were instinctively awed and stilled.  Ever the walls of the gorge grew more steep, until the sunlight was cut off and they rode as if in twilight.  The stone of the precipices presented a marvellous array of color; and the spruce, almost black in the subdued light, stood in startling contrast.  Ben saw at once that even were they able to land they could not—­until they had emerged from the gorge—­climb to the highlands.  A mountain goat, most hardy of all mountaineers, could scarcely scale the abrupt wall.

During this time of half-light they saw none of the larger forest creatures that at first had gazed at them with such wonder from the banks.  The reason was simply that they could not descend and ascend the steep walls.

Mostly Ben had time only for an occasional glimpse at the colossus above him.  His work was to guide the craft between the perilous boulders.  Occasionally the river slackened its wild pace, and at such times he stretched his arms and rested his straining eyes.

Both had largely forgotten the danger of the ride.  Because she was trying bravely to make the best of a tragic situation Beatrice had resolved to keep danger from her thoughts.  Ben had known from the first that danger was an inevitable element in his venture, and he accepted it just as he had considered it,—­with entire coldness.  Yet both of them knew, in their secret thoughts, that the balance of life and death was so fine that the least minor incident might cast them into darkness.  It would not have to be a great disaster, a wide departure from the commonplace.  They were traveling at a terrific rate of speed, and a sharp rock too close to the surface would rip the bottom from their craft.  Any instant might bring the shock and shudder of the end.

There would scarcely be time to be afraid.  Both would be hurled into the stream; and the wild waters, pounding against the rocks, would close the matter swiftly.  It awed them and humbled them to realize with what dispatch and ease this wilderness power could snuff out their mortal lives.  There would be no chance to fight back, no element of uncertainty in the outcome.  Here was a destiny against which the strength of man was as thistledown in the wind!  The thought was good spiritual medicine for Ben, just as it would have been for most other men, and his egoism died a swift and natural death.

One crash, one shock, and then the darkness and silence of the end!  The river would rage on, unsatiated by their few pounds of flesh, storming by in noble fury; but no man would know whither they had gone and how they had died.  The walls of the gorge would not tremble one whit, or notice; and the spruce against the sky would not bow their heads to show that they had seen.